Rage against the dying of the light
by ellesmer.joe3
Summary: Two demigods rarely have the same recurring nightmare, but that's just the unfortunate case of Lauren and Ethan. As the time of the Seven comes to a close, new heroes step forward to find an old tree and possibly kill a giant scorpion. But when old enemies resurface, can the two camps overcome impossible odds in order to save the Nine Realms? (2nd part of a now DISCONTINUED series)
1. Prologue - Ethan

**Hi everyone! Welcome to my story! :)**

 **Now, before delving into the world of Lauren, let's get something straight.**

 **I have an old story called "My Salve". It's a Harry Potter / Avengers crossover fanfiction. It was one of my first ever stories, so the writing isn't that good, but it's got a respectable number of reviews, followers and favorites, so I won't say more about that.**

 **BUT, My Salve is Part 1 of this story arc - the "Avenged" story arc. You don't necessarily have to read it in order to understand this story, I'm just putting it out there.**

 **This is Part 2 of the "Avenged" story arc. :) I'm planning for a Part 3, but that won't come until two years or so. Such is the life of a writer.**

 **ANYWAY, I WILL say that knowledge in the Rick Riordan universe is imperative if you plan on taking this story seriously. I sure as hell know that I did.**

 **That's all, I think. There will be more author's notes in the following chapters, anyway.**

 **Without further ado, I give you the first chapter of "Rage against the dying of the light". Enjoy!**

 **(The things you might recognize are under the possessions of Rick Riordan, Stan Lee, and Marvel.)**

* * *

 _It is well into the evening; darkness has long descended. Tree branches peek out from their trunks like arms, scratching my face as I thunder past them._

 _Behind me, I hear the monster crush the tree between its pincers. I flinch as large splinters fly past me, some embedding themselves into my back. I ignore the pain and the blood flowing through the cuts, pulling another arrow out from my sheath and turning around, releasing it towards the monster in the blink of an eye. I don't have time to consider whether the arrow penetrated its skin, as a rather large tree almost slams into me and I have to graze past it._

 _Thinking fast, I take hold of one of its larger branches, pulling it along with me for a fraction of a second before letting go. There is a loud crunch, followed by the ear-splitting screech of the monster. I must have hit it._

 _I start to run faster, knowing that I had just angered the creature. It would not die from a simple blow to the head, or with arrows. But there has to be a way to kill it, perhaps a chink in its armor. My mind flashes back to an hour previous, when the creature stood before me and stared at me._

 _Oh, if I hadn't started running! Perhaps it wouldn't have attacked. There is nothing I can do now—only hope that I find a way to kill it before it kills me._

 _Where is Artemis? Where are her Hunters? They were there—they were all there when the monster sprung forth from the ground. Surely they would come and help me! I am snapped out of my thoughts when a wolf howls in the distance._

 _The monster wails again, making the ground tremble beneath my feet—as if its footfalls weren't factor enough. I reach back again and pull another arrow from my quiver; my heart drops when my finger grazes only one. I look down to find that it is the last one._

You must make it count, _I tell myself, and I have never felt so afraid. In all my years of hunting, no creature has ever bested me. This one, however… this could be the one._

 _I steel my gut, plant my foot, and push upwards off the ground. I grip the tree branch that nearly impales my head and pull myself onto its shaky hold, crouching there with my arrow already nocked. For the first time since an hour, I see the creature in full view._

 _Its broad back and tail are shielded with some kind of dark armor, as well as its eight, clawed legs. Its stinger has the same color and shape of an almost-ripe pomegranate, but much, much larger—perhaps the size of my own head. Looking at everything else, I realize that it is the only part of its body that is not shielded by armor; or, I am desperate enough to assume this._

 _It is getting closer, now. My hand is shaking as I grip my bow, and I force it to still. I only have one shot. The tip of my arrow hones in on the creature's unmoving stinger, and I hold my breath._

 _The monster is ten feet away when I let my arrow fly._

 _A sharp clicking sound and it scrapes past the monster's tail._

 _"No…" The creature had angled its tail only an inch downward, narrowly avoiding my arrow. Creatures such as this are not supposed to be so intelligent!_

 _I've been staring at it for a moment too long. I whirl around and make a move to jump back onto the ground, but the creature snaps at the trunk of the tree and I fall with it. Upon impacting the ground, searing pain shoots up my stomach, making my breath hitch in my throat. Through the snow billowing about from the skirmish, I see one of the branches has fallen on top of me. I struggle to get out from underneath it but it only brings me more pain._

 _There is a loud hissing sound, accompanied by sharp clicking._

 _"ARTEMIS!" I scream. "ARTEMIS, PLEASE! PHOEBE! ADA! LENORE! HAYLEY—"_

 _The creature appears behind the thinning cloud of snow, its pincers clicking menacingly as it approaches me. I continue shouting, desperately wondering why all of them were gone. Surely this creature did not maim them so easily? There were more of them than one of me! Now, I have no knife, no more arrows, and a bow that is long past my grasp._

 _The branch atop me seems to have molded itself against me as it has become impossible to even shake it without hurting myself._

 _The monster hovers over me, hissing. Its tail bends backward first, and I know what comes after. Several drops of yellow liquid oozes out of its stinger and falls onto the branch, where it starts eating away at the bark._

 _"Gods above," I plead, closing my eyes. "Please… HELP ME!"_

 _Nothing happens. In the distance, I hear the sound of a Hunter's horn being blown. Hope flares inside me, before the monster lets it tail fall forward and into my chest—_

* * *

Ethan gasped awake, wildly looking around, searching for the monster that had him pinned down.

There was none.

He was in the Hermes cabin, sitting up on one of the bunk beds, with the entire room looking very musty and dark except for the sunlight that was streaming through the blinds. Around him, (and also above him) there must have been three or four other Hermes campers who were sleeping.

What had woken Ethan? Perhaps it was the disturbingly vivid nightmare… he had never had one of those before. Then he realized that the sound of a horn being blown in his dream was happening in real life as well. There was a pause before the steady blast of it cut into the silence a third time. Being inside a cabin, Ethan, who was already awake, could barely hear it, so the campers who were asleep wouldn't have even registered it.

How had Ethan, though? He was fast asleep as much as them, and lost in a dream that required _much_ of his awareness… He stopped questioning it. He was rather grateful, in fact, that he had been pulled out of the nightmare's clutches. But why did he have a dreadful feeling in the pit of his stomach? Frowning, and with very light feet, Ethan got off the bed and walked to the door.

Judging from how cold it was, it must have been a little past noon. Yet Ethan's forehead was beaded with sweat, from the nightmare, but he paid no attention to that. His attention was caught by the group of girls standing in the middle of the clearing.

Quickly, Ethan counted in his head and found that there were twelve of them. None could have been more than twenty years old. They all looked quite diverse from each other, with some of them having dark skin, some porcelain white, some having light hair, some raven-black. All of them, however, wore ski parkas with jeans and hunting boots, wore their hair tied into braids down their backs, and had quivers of arrows at their sides with bows in their hands.

Ethan stared at their parkas with slight envy, rubbing up and down his arms as his sweat started to freeze over.

Chiron, the centaur Ethan knew to be Camp Half-Blood's activities director, stood before the group with a thoughtful expression. Beside him were Jason Grace and Piper McLean, the famous counselors from the Zeus and Aphrodite cabins. They were speaking with the two girls at the head of the group: one with short, choppy, russet hair—obviously older than the other one, who had auburn hair tied up in a ponytail.

Ethan noticed that more than a dozen campers had gathered behind Chiron, listening in, so Ethan was not so ashamed to join the mass, but he made sure to be as subtle as possible.

He settled beside George, a boy from the Hermes cabin and someone Ethan had presumed was a friend… or, at least, an acquaintance.

"What's happening?" Ethan murmured.

"It's the Hunters of Artemis," said George. "I don't understand why they're here… They rarely visit—"

"Hunters?" said Ethan. "Where's Artemis though?"

George pointed to the girl with auburn hair. "The one in front speaking with Chiron. That's her lieutenant beside her. Lauren, I think."

 _That's Artemis?_ Ethan stared at the girl with wide eyes, and several questions sprung into mind: Were those other girls her daughters? No, Artemis was a maiden goddess, Ethan knew. Why was she so young? Or was that just the kind of body she preferred?

He was yet to know how the Olympians acted; he hadn't even met his godly parent yet. The other campers had said that it usually took more or less four days for the signs to appear. Ethan had been staying in the Hermes cabin for a week and still nothing happened.

He was getting anxious, but truthfully he hoped he would be a son of Hermes. He'd grown rather close to the inmates there.

"… dreams are starting to become very dangerous business, my Lady," Chiron was saying. He looked nervous and fidgety beneath the goddess' gaze, which Ethan assumed was normal for anyone to feel.

"Which is why we cannot let this go unnoticed, Chiron," Artemis replied coolly. "Has your Oracle spoken of a new prophecy?" Ethan glanced uneasily at the Big House, recalling what everyone said about the girl that lived there.

"Nothing yet… but isn't that a good thing?"

"This is important, Chiron. I've spoken to my brother and it is not his doing. He has not been sending dreams for the good of two years, not since the war with the Earth Mother. I fear something is about to happen… And the signs—"

"The signs," said Chiron, pushing his wheelchair forward the slightest bit. Ethan noticed the girls behind Artemis shift, almost threateningly. "Signs… from the dream?"

"Yes, it wasn't supposed to be snowing," Artemis said quickly, frowning at the ground. "And we had chased away all the wolves within the perimeter already…"

"No offense, Lady Artemis," Piper McLean interjected gently, "But I'm afraid your words offer us no clues. You haven't told us what happens in these… _dreams_ yet."

For a moment, Ethan thought she was going to get disintegrated on the spot, but Artemis' gaze remained distracted and thoughtful. She waved a hand to the girl beside her, Lauren, in what seemed to be a sign of permission. Lauren nodded briskly.

"It always starts the same, I am always running through a forest," she started, and Ethan couldn't help but to notice her light accent. "It was dark and there was something chasing me. In the dream, I always thought of it as just a monster—I never had a name for it. Then as soon as I wake up, I know that it is a scorpion. A giant scorpion."

Ethan's heart skipped a beat.

"None of my arrows worked on it. The scorpion always had this sort of armor on it, like the Nemean Lion's pelt... I remember being so desperate for help. Eventually the monster had me pinned and I started calling for my Lady Artemis." Lauren's eyes flickered to the goddess beside her, who was no doubt listening to the story with attentive ears. "Her and the other Hunters. I do not know how myself, in the dream, had come across to know of them, but—"

She stopped talking. Her eyes turned from neutral to furious as they turned to him, and Ethan was alarmed to find that he had stepped up from the mass of campers, in full view of the conversing group. Ethan glanced behind him fearfully and found the same expression on George's face. The son of Hermes had apparently tried to stop him from walking forward, but Ethan had been relentless.

He stood, now, in front of two immortal beings, two older camp counselors, and eleven armed girls with boy issues.

Jason Grace turned around slowly and looked down at Ethan with gentle, but confused eyes. "Woah, dude," he said. "I wouldn't go after _these_ girls if I were you. They'd tear you to shreds."

"Not literally," his girlfriend, Piper, quickly added. They looked at each other uncertainly, and their smiles did nothing to put Ethan at ease.

"Ethan Lane," Chiron said, facing him. "Is there something you wish to say, child?"

Ethan didn't know what to do. All eyes were on him now, even the campers'. No doubt, Artemis was watching him as well. His hands started to shake, but miraculously, he found the will to speak:

"Yeah, I, uh…" _Yeah, real great job, Ethan._ He cleared his throat. "About the dream… I… I have them too."

The way he said it, through his ears, couldn't have sounded more mediocre. In his head, he imagined slapping himself for being so pedestrian. Artemis and her lieutenant were looking at him with wary eyes, and something George had said earlier in the week popped into mind: _They don't like boys very much, from what Jason says._

A lump formed in Ethan's throat and he opened his mouth to speak, just to tell them to forget everything he'd said and clarify that he was, in fact, going to whack himself with a bat that night, but Lauren spoke first: "Prove it," she said.

"S-sorry?"

"Prove it," she repeated coldly. "Give me the details of the dream."

 _Oh, well…_ "It was snowing," Ethan slowly said, but they already knew that. He rummaged his brain for the remnants of the dream, struggling to remember the little things. "While you… while _I_ was running, a wolf howled." He watched Artemis' face for anything that could suggest she was about to shoot him down; thankfully, there was none. "And the scorpion's stinger sort of looked like a pomegranate." Lauren's eyes widened. "And, uh… I had one arrow left but I missed, so the monster snapped the tree trunk I was standing on and took me down with it. It was about to stab me and eat me for dinner, I think, when—"

"When the dream ended," Lauren finished, her voice laced with astonishment… either that, or she had finally found a reason to shoot Ethan. She looked at Artemis and said, "What does this mean, my Lady?"

Artemis gripped her bow tightly. "Something is coming," she said vaguely. At the uneasy breaths that the girls behind her drew, she added, "Perhaps nothing bigger than Gaea, or the Titans, or the Giants… but one in particular…" The last bit, she had said under her breath, and Ethan had barely heard it. But everyone else around their huddled circle did, though.

"Orion?" Lauren said, looking upset.

"That's impossible," Jason spoke up. "Reyna strangled him to death two years ago. That's where she got the Aegis!" He seemed to think about what he said for a moment. "Or at least, a part of the Aegis… but my point still stands. Orion's supposed to be dead."

"Monsters never truly die, Jason Grace," said Artemis. "The same goes for Orion; though I'm afraid, he has returned from Tartarus too soon… so soon, in fact, that I have cause to worry…"

Ethan's brain felt like it was about to explode, which was the main reason he found the courage to hold his hands up in a time-out sign. "Hold on," he started lamely. "Who's this Orion guy? And who's Reyna?" Both names sounded familiar, but he was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Artemis was standing right in front of him.

Ignoring him, Artemis turned to her lieutenant and said, "I must go to Olympus, perhaps my father knows something about this. You and the others will stay here, in my cabin—"

"But—"

"—and _try_ to think of _why_ it would be snowing in your dream." She paused, frowning. "When Orion was slain _originally_ by the giant scorpion Gaea had sent, it was midsummer… the snow is a sign. I know it. You will explain to Ethan everything about Orion and the war, and what he did." Her eyes flashed dangerously. "That's an order, Lauren."

Lauren wouldn't meet the goddess' eyes. "Yes, my Lady."

"I will be back as soon as I can. And if anything happens, make sure to keep him safe."

"But he's a boy!" Lauren complained, and Artemis smiled.

"I know, but it's only until I get back. Do well, Lauren." The goddess turned, strolled past the other Hunters, who reverently parted like the Red Sea. As soon as she was separated from everyone else, the snow rose from behind her, covering her from view. When the snow returned to the ground, she was gone.

Once she was gone, the air in the clearing lightened up, but only slightly. Ethan released a breath he didn't know he had been holding, and watched as the crowd of campers dispersed, returning to their cabins or anywhere else they wanted to. George ran off to the direction of the volleyball court, not even giving Ethan a sideward glance.

Jason and Piper walked off, holding hands and disappearing behind the Mess Hall, and Ethan could only assume that they were headed for the beach. Before they got too far, he heard Piper say, "I've seriously had enough of Giants." Jason laughed.

Meanwhile, Lauren had led the Hunters past the fountain and into the Artemis cabin. It seemed they'd been cooped there sometime before, for there were groans of displeasure that came from inside. Ethan was starting to think it would be best not to stare after them when Chiron suddenly clapped his shoulder. Ethan's head snapped up to find the centaur looking down at him with what seemed to be sympathetic eyes.

"Come, my boy," he said, gently pulling Ethan away. "We have much to discuss, preferably with a goblet of Coke, wouldn't you say?"

* * *

Mr. D wasn't in the Big House while they spoke, which originally concerned Ethan because he was _always_ there. Chiron told him not to worry too much about him. "He wouldn't try to escape," he said, and Ethan didn't know the wine god too much, so he wasn't in any place to argue.

On his first day at camp, Ethan had already been brought up to speed about the gods, Olympus, demigods, and everything that could have possibly been in-between. Now, however, Chiron was addressing him about the so-called Titan War, and the Second Giant War.

He said that the Titan War was over and done with, but the Second Giant War had only taken place two years prior to Ethan's arrival, and that made Ethan _very_ worried. Chiron told him about the Prophecy of Seven and the seven demigods who were in it: Jason Grace, Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase, Piper McLean, Leo Valdez, Frank Zhang, and Hazel Levesque. The two latter names were all but alien to Ethan, and Chiron explained that they were Roman demigods.

The centaur had already explained everything about the Roman demigod camp in San Francisco, and Ethan would have liked to think that he was all over it, though he was still hazy with the whole Greek-Roman god personifications. But he knew enough.

Towards the end of the story, Lauren walked into the house and sat down two seats away from both Chiron and Ethan. Ethan knew that she was going to come eventually, as was Artemis' order, but he was still slightly awestruck.

She started immediately. "So, two years ago, there was this big—" Chiron stopped her by holding one hand up; she regarded him with aloof eyes. "You have told him everything there is to know, then?" The centaur nodded. "I have nothing else to explain?" Another slow nod. "Good. Let's get right to business then: the dream," she said. "You have given me reason to believe that you've been having the same—"

"No," Ethan interrupted. Her eyes narrowed and he knew that he probably shouldn't have cut her off, but he continued anyway. "I've only had it once before. Just today, actually. I was asleep in the Hermes cabin when I heard a horn…"

Lauren nodded. "And you've never had these dreams before today?"

"Not that I can remember."

"Strange."

"Very strange," Chiron agreed, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

"Does this usually happen?" Ethan asked, looking to the centaur. "Two demigods having the same dream?"

"I'm afraid not," he said. "Dreams are very powerful in a demigod's reality, Ethan. They always have some hidden meaning to them. Sometimes, it shows an event that has happened, is happening, or will happen; sometimes it is a demigod's means of communicating with somebody. Two demigods having the same dream doesn't happen very often, but when it does…"

"We never know what to think," Lauren hastily finished. "That is why we have to get this sorted out before anything happens. The snow—what do you make of it?"

Ethan took a moment to think. "Maybe it means that something bad's gonna happen in Christmas?" At Chiron's warning look, he slinked deeper into his chair. "Or some time near Christmas, I don't know…"

Lauren nodded. "There is a possibility," she said. "I do not know about the 25th, but this year the winter solstice will happen in the 22nd. It is when the gods meet up at Mount Olympus to discuss important events."

"That happens every December?"

"And June," she replied. "Twice a year, during the winter and summer solstice. Maybe something will come at December 22nd… I cannot be sure if it is Orion or not—"

"Is there a god of snow?" said Ethan, mentally hitting himself. _I seriously have to stop interrupting her._ "Or god of ice or something. I mean, if it was snowing in my dream, maybe it was caused by him."

It was a lame suggestion, but not as lame as he had thought. Chiron shared a look with Lauren, and said, "There is a _goddess_ of snow, yes. Khione. She took part in the Second Giant War, as an ally of Gaea."

Ethan frowned. "Is there a possibility of her being back already, like Orion?"

"She was never killed, my boy," said the centaur. "She escaped." He once again looked to Lauren, and her finger started tapping on the table.

"I will tell Artemis of this as soon as she gets back," she stated grimly. "Have you any more suggestions?"

In fact, he did. Ethan was just about to inquire about the howling wolf in the dream—a tiny detail, but like the snow, it could have been important—when a tremor ran through the earth.

The Big House shook, and dust motes fell from the ceiling. Lauren's hand shot for her bow, which she'd placed on the floor beside her. There was another tremor, followed by a shrill scream that reverberated all throughout the room.

Lauren shot to her feet and was out the door in seconds. Chiron had reached for his sword, which sat on the mantel at one corner of the room, while Ethan remained, pinned on his seat, pupils dilated in fear.

* * *

 **"Rage against the dying of the light" is a line in a poem by Dylan Thomas, called "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night". It's one of the main inspirations of this story, and it'll come up in the latter portion, so watch out for that. ;)**

 **What'd you think so far? Yay or nay? Make sure to leave a review!**


	2. Chapter 1 - Lauren - Escape

**edited.**

 **Only the prologue was in Ethan's POV. The rest of the story will be Lauren-centric.**

* * *

Lauren knew for a fact that the magical border around Camp Half-Blood was supposed to keep monsters, and ill weather, out. Had it just broken, then?

Thankfully, the monsters that had gotten through weren't much to worry about. More or less, a dozen _karpoi_ running around the camp, laying waste to anything and anyone with their tiny bats. They couldn't really hurt any of the campers though.

Lauren regarded the scene with amused eyes, watching as the other Hunters picked off the _karpoi_ with their arrows, one by one. It was the best thing to do, too, because soon the little monsters would discover a way up rooftops, and Chiron would have to worry about the mongrels hiding in the nooks and crannies of the camp for weeks on end. Said centaur came trotting out of the Big House, now out of his wheelchair, sword at the ready. But as soon as he saw what was plaguing the camp, he sheathed it.

"Don't let them get to the Strawberry Fields!" he yelled to the four campers that had chased after a group of _karpoi_. "And someone call the wood nymphs!"

"Chiron," said Lauren, calling the centaur's attention. "Come." An agreement passed through them and they hastily made for Half-Blood Hill.

The Athena Parthenos towered over them, just as tall as the magical pine tree that was once Thalia Grace's life force. It stood as large as the first day Lauren ever walked past it. There was something different about it, though: its aura, which usually radiated warmth and always melted the snow gathering around its roots, had gone cold. The bark on its wide trunk had frosted over, and even as they stared at it, the ice continued getting thicker and thicker.

Lauren's eyes flickered to the Parthenos, only to find nothing going wrong with it. She then glanced downwards to find her breath rolling out of her mouth in wisps. Frowning deeply, she looked up at the Golden Fleece, which hung from the tree. It was freezing over as well, but she could almost feel it struggling to return the border around camp. They had to fix it soon, or monsters would come running in from every direction.

"Where's that dragon of yours?" she demanded, looking around wildly. Then she caught sight of it: a snake-headed copper dragon lumbering after two _karpoi_ , gnashing its teeth whenever it got close enough. One of the _karpoi_ disappeared down the dragon's gullet while one escaped, and the dragon was about to continue chasing that one as well before Chiron stomped his hoof.

"Peleus!" he called, and then whistled. The dragon immediately straightened up and turned away from the _karpoi_ , looking to the centaur, expectant. Chiron opened his mouth to call it back but suddenly a camper appeared from behind the dragon; he threw something at the _karpoi_ , but the tiny creature caught the thing and redirected its course to Peleus, who received the hit to its eye.

Peleus roared and turned away again, breathing fire at the _karpoi_. The boy camper ran the other way as the dragon continued chasing the little monsters, quickly making its way to the volleyball courts. Lauren cursed silently, pulling an arrow out from her sheath and about to call her Hunters to finish off the remaining _karpoi_ , when one thing stopped her.

Specifically, the loud, eerie, echoing drawl of a wolf's howl.

"Get that damned dragon back here, Chiron! Melt the frost off Thalia's tree," she snapped at the centaur, who galloped off in the direction Peleus had gone.

Pulling the Hunter's horn from the loop in her belt, she blew into it. Seconds later her Hunters appeared in the horizon, running towards her. "Sisters, to me! Ready your arrows!"

Another howl pierced through the air, followed by several more. Lauren whirled around, a specific part of her dream coming into mind as she watched wolf after wolf appear from the woods. There were seven of them, but it was too soon to tell, for even then, they continued streaming into view. They were larger than ordinary wolves, too. Lauren had never seen pelts such as theirs before.

Her sisters-in-arms ran up from behind her to stand with her, shoulder-to-shoulder with each other, arrows already nocked and aiming at the wolves.

"Lauren," one of the Hunters, Mina, stated in a breathless voice. "Your ward is running around in the pavilion. I think he'd be put down by the _karpoi_ at this rate."

Lauren snarled: "The fool will get himself killed." She patted each of her sisters' shoulders, realizing just how little they were, and how many the dogs… "Hold them back, sisters," she said in a firm tone. "The campers will come to your aid. I will make sure of it."

"Do not let the boy die," one of them replied. Lauren didn't have time to see or wonder who. She was already thundering back down Half-Blood Hill, past the volleyball courts and flying over the stream in one bound. To the campers that ran past her, she said, "To Thalia's Pine! Protect the statue!" Thankfully, all of them heard and understood her.

She arrived at the Mess Hall and found the boy, Ethan, standing at the end of the room, holding a sword out with two hands and pointing it towards the five _karpoi_ that had surrounded him.

One of the monsters leapt out of the semi-circle they had made, and Ethan finally swung his sword, cutting the _karpoi_ in half before it disintegrated. Lauren stopped watching and, silently, returned her arrow to its quiver and pulled her hunting knife out.

She rolled and stopped directly behind the middle _karpoi_. Swiping her arm in a wide arc, she dealt killing blows to the four of them remaining, in one slice. They turned to dust one after the other, and Lauren pushed herself to her feet, grabbing Ethan's arm roughly.

"Idiot," she hissed, starting to pull him out of the pavilion. But then she found their path back to the Hill blocked by a sandy-furred wolf.

It bared its teeth, growling menacingly. Lauren wrestled the sword out of Ethan's hand before pushing him backwards. He fell onto his backside and slid to the wall, and she jabbed at the wolf. It darted to the side and snapped at her, missing her face by inches.

Cursing, for she had never preferred a sword, Lauren waited for it to spring off the ground before weaving past it, rolling back onto her feet before unsheathing her hunting knife, gripping the blade, and throwing it to the wild mutt.

The blade rooted itself into the wolf's side, and stayed there. The wolf crumpled to the ground, whining, but did not disintegrate.

Lauren rushed up to the wolf and pulled the knife out; she gripped Ethan's arm, willing him to run, now. "We have to get out of here," she muttered as they ran behind the cabins, and then the Arena, and then the Armory.

Through quick glances to the side, she was able to discern that there were, in fact, more than a dozen wolves inside the camp. Campers and Hunters alike were fighting them off, and Lauren could only hope that Chiron had been able to return the magic in the Golden Fleece, with the help of Peleus.

"Where are we going?" said Ethan, breathless and panting.

"We are already here," Lauren replied. They stumbled into the stables, where several pegasi were whinnying in alarm. Lauren didn't want to wait until the wolves caught up. She broke the latch off one of the doors with Ethan's sword and cooed to the pegasus inside, though naturally her own heart was pounding.

"What's your name?" she muttered, glancing quickly to the stable door she'd just busted open. "Blaze? That makes sense." She didn't miss the color of his coat, which was a fiery sorrel, only a few shades away from Lauren's own hair. "Girl or boy?" One glance down and—"Okay, girl. Blaze, you have to let us ride you, alright?"

The pegasus whinnied profusely and shook her head.

"No? Well, unless you want to _die_ —" One of the wolves back at the open fields of camp howled, and Blaze's protests died down. She furled her wings back into her sides. Lauren smiled. "Good. Boy, get on."

Ethan spluttered. "Get—get on that?"

"I am not carrying you," Lauren snapped. "Just jump and pull yourself up. I do not have time to strap the saddle on so you'll have to settle with this." She snatched a thick blanket from off the top of a shelf in Blaze's stable and placed it onto the horse's back. Another wolf howled, accompanied by a camper's scream. "Hurry!"

He seemed to snap himself out of a stupor. Placing his hand on Blaze's side, he took another moment to himself before making a small jump. His upper body made it onto the horse's back, but his feet remained dangling above the air. Lauren worried that the horse would fall beneath his weight, and she was impatient enough to grab hold of the boy's legs and give him the extra push he needed.

As soon as he was safely on, she pulled herself onto the pegasus and grabbed hold of her mane, though made sure not to grip it too hard.

Lauren gave Ethan his sword back and gave Blaze's side a soft, but spurring kick with her heel. "Hyah!"

The pegasus ran forth from her stable and broke out into the open, taking a second to gain speed before spreading her wings. She flapped it one, two, three times, and then they were in the air.

Lauren had never flown on pegasus before, and she was as frightened as she was thrilled to find the ground already hundreds of feet beneath them in only a minute. However, she felt Ethan's grip tighten around her waist and she scowled, only allowing it for much longer because she knew that Artemis wouldn't want him falling to his death.

Glancing over her shoulder, she found that Camp Half-Blood had become a mere speck in her vision. Below them were acres upon acres of trees, and perhaps some occasional stream, but probably another two hundred miles ahead of them was New York City and, eventually, the Empire State Building.

This was where Artemis would have wanted her to take Ethan, Lauren knew. The goddess should have been there and, if she wasn't, her brother was sure to be; he always offered help. Lauren remembered her sisters who had remained at camp, fighting the wolves. They wouldn't fall to such low creatures, she was sure, but where had the wolves even come from?

The _karpoi_ , she could reason with, considering they were grain spirits and Camp Half-Blood wasn't exactly in the middle of an urbanized area. But wolves… and wolves of such size and of such amount? She didn't know what to think.

There was once a time where they'd slain many beasts such as those, when Thalia Grace was still a part of their company. The beasts had been led by Lycaon, but he had died from his wounds long ago… or, that was what Lauren knew to be true. Still, those wolves weren't the kind that he normally had with him. They looked more feral, and Lauren would even go so far as to describe them as unearthly.

Several minutes into their flight, when Ethan had finally let go of her waist and New York had grown closer than ever before, the wind started picking up, blowing against them and practically turning them into icicles. Lauren glanced over her shoulder, knowing Ethan didn't have anything but a shirt on. She found him shivering against her back, but she was bothered enough by the temperature not to tell him off.

Between her legs, Blaze's entire frame shook. Her mane grew hard in Lauren's fingers, and Lauren looked down to find particles of frost accumulating within the pegasus' hair.

"We have to land!" she shouted to be heard over the wind. Ethan nodded his head vigorously, which she felt against her back. Lauren leaned down and patted Blaze's neck, murmuring into her ear, "Land now, Blaze. Come on."

The pegasus nickered weakly, angling them back down to the ground.

Before they had even started to lose altitude, large white pellets materialized within Lauren's line of sight. The wind continued blowing against them, pelting them with barrages of sleet. Lauren covered her face with her arm and allowed her parka to gain some of the damage, but it wasn't her or Ethan she was worried about. Even then, as she struggled to keep her eyes on where they were going, she knew that Blaze's wings were being bombarded with hail as well.

Blaze let out a loud whinny, and her head shot forward. Her wings furled back against her body, covering Lauren's and Ethan's legs with warmth. Soon, they were crashing through the trees of the forest below.

Lauren kept herself against Blaze's back, leaning across the pegasus' neck where her cheek was buried within her mane. Ethan was once again gripping Lauren's back for dear life, and it was the only time she couldn't blame him.

Then the ground thundered into view, and Lauren knew they had to get off Blaze as to not crush her during the impact with the undergrowth. Reaching behind her, she took hold of Ethan's wrist and squeezed it tight within her frostbitten fingers. A split second passed before she heaved them both off the pegasus.

The impact was jarring and slightly painful, but less so than she had expected. Her arms ached from gripping Blaze's mane for so long, though one glance at Ethan and she knew that they were no worse for wear.

Blaze was a different story.

She lay on her side, perhaps ten feet away. Lauren rushed to the pegasus and knelt beside her, quickly addressing her wounds. Her body was fine, save for a few scratches here and there from the fall. Her face, however, was swollen, presumably from the many hits it had taken via sleet. Her eyes were wide with fear and pain as she repeatedly raised and dropped her head. Her midsection rose and fell at a rapid pace.

Lauren patted her side soothingly, looking the pegasus in the eye as she gently tugged at its right wing. A few moments passed before she unfurled it, and Lauren's heart dropped into her stomach as she assessed the many jagged cuts and punctures beneath the feathers. Blaze's dark wings had been decorated with red, and it was a disturbing sight.

She didn't stop cooing at the pegasus, smiling kindly down at her as she took out two squares of ambrosia—the food of the gods—from her pocket. Looking behind her, she looked Ethan up and down before handing him one of the squares.

"Eat it slowly," she told him sternly, "Unless you want to burn on the spot."

His eyes widened in recognition and he broke off a small piece of the ambrosia, putting it into his mouth and chewing it very, very slowly. Lauren turned away from him and broke off a considerably chunk from the square, letting Blaze sniff it. The pegasus recognized the smell and picked it off from Lauren's hand.

As she chewed on it, Lauren took a chunk for herself and ate it whole.

It tasted like cooked wild boar, which was the animal she and her Hunters always caught and barbecued for special occasions—namely, New Year's Eve. Artemis never enjoyed the festivity much, because of the noise, but Lauren and the Hunters had eventually learned to appreciate it.

Closing her eyes, the familiar burning sensation came in her stomach, from eating too much ambrosia at once, but it dissipated quickly. When she opened her eyes again, her body had gained back its usual vigor and energy. Blaze seemed to have gotten some of her strength back as well; Lauren broke off another chunk of ambrosia and fed it to the horse, and when she was done chewing that, fed her the last piece.

She waited there for a whole minute before tugging on the pegasus' wing again, where she found the cuts had healed, save for the few larger ones, but they had stopped bleeding.

Blaze neighed and pulled herself onto her feet, where she shook her mane and whipped her tail back and forth. Lauren stared at the creature fondly before turning around, to find Ethan done with his square of ambrosia as well.

"She's fine now," Lauren told him, patting the leaves off her legs. "We must make haste. More monsters could have caught our scent already. Although, I think we should stay on the ground, if that is alright with you, Blaze."

The pegasus nickered softly, digging its hoof into the ground.

Ethan smiled. "I think that means yes."

Lauren did not reply, only motioned for him to get on the pegasus. Like they did half an hour before, he kept his torso anchored on Blaze's back while Lauren pushed his legs up. Once the both of them were safely onto her back, she spurred the pegasus and they continued on their way to Olympus.

"We're headed to New York?" Ethan inquired, and Lauren noticed that he wasn't gripping her waist anymore, unlike what he'd done while they were flying.

"Yes," she replied.

"Why?"

"Because Artemis is at Olympus, and I have many things to relay to her about what happened at camp."

There was a moment of silence, and then, "The wolves," Ethan said, "And the howling from the dream… you think they're connected somehow?"

"They must be." Lauren sighed. "And the sleet that appeared out of nowhere just now, that was not normal. It is far too early in the winter for anything like that to happen, but for demigods… I suppose it is ordinary."

"It might be that snow goddess you and Chiron were talking about. Khi—"

Lauren shushed him before he could continue. "Do not say her name," she muttered. "Surely your camp director has told you that names are to be spoken carefully and only when needed, or is Chiron getting careless?"

"He might have mentioned something," the boy said quietly, and she scoffed.

"You would do well to remember everything he's told you, unless you want to get yourself killed."

She spurred Blaze once more, willing the pegasus to break from her trotting and start running. One look at the sky and Lauren's suspicions were confirmed: someone was after them—one particular snow goddess… She was never really killed during the War. Piper McLean had recalled the events on the Argo II and confirmed that the goddess had escaped.

Had she returned, then? For an ulterior motive, or for simple vengeance against the daughter of Aphrodite—for killing her brothers? She must know that the two weren't exactly dead. So why was Khione back?

Several more explanations came to her, but she forced them back, as the storm clouds were getting closer and closer to the ground than she would have liked. She spurred the pegasus again, wondering if it was hurting her or not. Lightning flashed overhead but it wasn't caused by Zeus. It was something much more sinister.

"What's your sword made of, boy?" Lauren asked, glancing over her shoulder to find Ethan looking down at the blade in his hands uncertainly.

"Chiron said something about bronze… Celestial bronze, I think…"

"Good. We have company."

An alarmed nicker escaped Blaze and she threw her head back, halting and digging her hooves into the same place. Lauren patted the pegasus's neck urgently.

"You have to keep running," she said, watching as lightning flashed again, bringing two smoky figures into view. They separated from the dark tempest and started billowing towards them. Lauren spurred the horse again. "Blaze, go!"

The pegasus whinnied in protest but Ethan slammed his hand against her hindquarters. She reared on her hind legs, nearly resulting in the demigods falling off her back, but they held fast and soon enough Blaze was stampeding past the trees, faster than before.

Thunder boomed overhead, followed by a sharp crackling noise—but this one wasn't from above. Lauren pulled Blaze's mane to the left, and the pegasus followed. In the second that passed, all the hairs on Lauren's body stood on end and there was a loud _pop_ , similar to the clap of thunder.

Blaze neighed worriedly but didn't stop running. Lauren looked behind them, past Ethan's shoulder, and found that a thin tree had been snapped in the middle and caught fire. Beyond that, however, were four boys trailing after them… or they _looked_ like boys. Lauren knew better, though.

"What are those things?" said Ethan, shouting to be heard over the noise of Blaze's trekking.

"Those are _venti_ ," Lauren replied as the realization hit her full force. Aeolus should have captured all of them by now…The last time they were roaming free, it was during the War and they were controlled by _that_ snow goddess… Lauren gulped back the lump in her throat. _She is definitely back._

"Sorry?" Ethan said. "I'm not that good with Greek yet—"

"Storm spirits!"

"Can we outrun them?"

She spared another look over her shoulder and found the spirits already closing in. They alternated from flying from one point to another, jogging a few steps forward, before turning into smoke and repeating the process.

Lightning crackled in their shapeless bodies. One brought its hand up and pointed to Blaze's initial direction. Lauren veered the pegasus to the side once more, barely keeping them from getting turned into demigod-barbecue.

Ethan gulped behind her. "That's a no then?"

"That's a no." Lauren scowled and pulled Blaze into a halt. "We must face them."

She jumped off the pegasus and nocked one arrow, letting it fly—a theory. As she'd expected, the _venti_ easily evaded the arrow. Scowling, Lauren replaced her bow with her hunting knife, ears perking up at the sound of Ethan's feet hitting the ground.

"Use the sword, boy." Then, she made haste to intercept one of the _venti_ , which had made a move to summon more lightning.

She slashed at its hand and its figure bubbled slightly. Lauren found that, in the blink of an eye, it disappeared and reappeared beside her. She ducked, narrowly avoiding its electric grasp, and swiped the knife upward. The _ventus_ ' smoke form split in half before dissipating all at once.

Lauren whirled around to see Ethan flailing about, desperately trying to evade one of the _venti_ 's advances. He held his sword limply in one hand, keeping it aloft but never actually swinging it.

Lauren stepped forward, hoping to aid him, when a sudden, strong breeze pushed her onto her back—so hard that the wind got knocked out of her lungs. Wheezing, she peered up at the _ventus_ that had attacked her. A miniature hurricane brew about it, but then the lightning flashes in its stomach died down and it flickered to the form of a boy with jet-black hair and copper skin. His eyes sparked with electricity, and on his back were a pair of smoky wings.

"A Hunter of Artemis, travelling with a _male_ demigod?" He laughed, and his voice resembled the booming of thunder above them. "And I thought I'd seen it all!"

The veins on Lauren's neck protruded from the skin there as she struggled against the continuous blasts of wind he was beating at her. She couldn't even raise her head. "Has Aeolus turned on the Olympians once more? The coward." She growled. "He never could face his enemies."

The storm spirit's eyes flashed. "We escaped from that idiot months ago," he retorted.

"Escaped? How?"

He grinned. "The ice wants its kingdom back," he said, "And the Hunter."

Ignoring the uneasy feeling that had crept into her stomach, Lauren brought forth the remaining courage she had and snarled: "You will die here."

To her surprise, the wind buffeting her stopped all at once; she didn't wait for an explanation. She flew to her feet and stabbed the _ventus_ in the heart.

"They'll find you," he said weakly. Lightning crackled in his eyes for the last time before he disintegrated right in front of Lauren. Golden powder entered her nose. She coughed, brandishing her knife as tears sprung forth from her eyes.

Then, the ringing in her ears went away, and she was reminded of the two _venti_ that were left—the ones that Ethan was currently struggling against, in vain. Their wings stretched out from their shoulders blades and started flapping.

They started gaining altitude. Lauren, not knowing what else to do, threw her blade at one of the _venti_. It hit its mark and the spirit disintegrated, but there was one more left and he seemed to be strong enough to continue pulling Ethan.

They were almost above the height of the trees, now. Lauren ran for the tree nearest to them and hastily scaled it. The adrenaline pumping through her veins nearly caused her foot to slip from the holds, but she didn't fall.

Once she was at the top of the highest branch, she swung her arms forward, for momentum, and jumped.

For a few moments, she wildly thrashed about in the air—until her hand caught something. Her head snapped up and she found that she was gripping Ethan's ankle. Lucky that she hadn't gotten his foot (for it might have broken), she started violently tugging him down. He was shouting something, and she could only guess that the _ventus_ was pulling—most likely harder than her.

" _Di immortales_ ," she said through gritted teeth, exasperated. She was too light.

She was preparing herself for an especially forceful tug when Ethan's weight suddenly disappeared… or the opposing force that was pulling him skyward.

They were falling now. The sword had slipped from Ethan's grip, and he was screaming his lungs out. Lauren looked wildly around for the _ventus_ and found it had returned to its smoky form, and was flying towards them.

Thinking quickly, Lauren adjusted in the air and reached behind her. Eventually, her fingers closed around the warm hilt of her second hunting knife. She thrust the blade forward.

Suddenly the _ventus_ had something in his grip; there was a sharp prick on her hip and then she stabbed again, and the _ventus_ exploded into dust in front of her, getting into her eyes, mouth, nostrils. There was an abrupt whinny from somewhere to her right.

Her back collided with the ground. Her chest tightened, the ringing in her ears returned, and her vision turned dull.

Her head pounded wildly. Through half-lidded eyes, she was able to catch a glimpse of Ethan kneeling over her, his mouth moving. She couldn't discern where Blaze was. Apart from Ethan's voice… someone else was speaking. An odd, metallic voice.

She didn't have time to figure out who or what it could possibly be, for mere moments later, darkness descended upon her and took hold.


	3. Chapter 2 - Acquainted

**I'm updating quickly because I really want those reviews HAHAHAH**

 **So far, this story only has one. Hoping that changes, so I'll do my best to keep the writing and updating as consistent as possible. :)**

 **Anything you might recognise is under the possessions of Rick Riordan, Stan Lee and Marvel.**

* * *

 _It is getting closer, now._

 _My hand is shaking as I grip my bow, and I force it to still. I only have one shot._

 _The tip of my arrow hones in on the creature's unmoving stinger, and I hold my breath._

 _The monster is ten feet away when I let my arrow fly._

 _A sharp clicking sound and it scrapes past the monster's tail._

 _"No…"_

 _I whirl around and attempt to jump back onto the ground, but something catches on my leg and I fall instead._

 _Pain shoots up my abdomen and I let out a low groan, panting heavily._

 _There is a loud hissing sound, accompanied by sharp clicking._

 _"ARTEMIS!" I scream. "ARTEMIS, PLEASE! PHOEBE! ADA! LEN—"_

* * *

Lauren gasped awake, eyes snapping open in a fraction of a second. She wildly looked around at her surroundings and the first thing that occurred to her was that she was no longer in the woods.

She was in a dimly lit room, illuminated only by rectangular light bulbs that were sticking out of the walls, like horizontal bars. Judging from only those, she immediately knew that she (and Ethan and Blaze, if she could find them) had not been brought back to Camp Half-Blood. Nor had the hunters found her. If she had to guess, they'd been picked up by a stranger and brought back to the city.

 _At least we are in New York now,_ thought Lauren, memories of the storm spirit attack swelling into her brain. She willed her oddly heavy body to pull up into a sitting position. _Now I just have to take care of whoever is holding us here and it's a straight shot for Olympus—_

A sudden twinge of pain erupted from the side of her stomach, just above her hip. Frowning, Lauren glanced down, and only then did she notice her parka jacket was no longer on her, nor was her bow, or sheath of arrows. She knew that her hunting knives were long gone; she'd thrown one at a _ventus_ , and she had no idea where the other one could have been…

Her jeans and boots were still intact, thankfully, and so was her black shirt. But on her left hip, there was a large tear on the fabric. Lauren touched the edge and found it hard and cold. Though she already knew what was beneath, she pulled the side of her shirt up—and sure enough, there was a square bandage taped on top of damaged skin.

It didn't hurt much. Lauren knew that the wound had been placed there by the final storm spirit. She vaguely remembered the object that suddenly materialized from the black smoke on its hand. Something that resembled a dagger.

Shaking away the remnants of her fatigue, Lauren sat up and warily observed her surroundings. She'd been lying on a mattress of sorts, held up by a single metal pole. There were similar fixtures all throughout the room, and she eyed them for a few moments before looking to the door at the end of the room. Her parka hung on a rack attached there.

She rushed towards it, ignoring the throbbing on her hip, and put the thick jacket on.

She kept light on her feet, her body tensed, and her ears perked for any signs of movement. Turning the doorknob silently, Lauren peeked outside and, finding no one was there, stepped through. There was a staircase up ahead. A breath of relief escaped her lips when she saw a table by the wall, where all her weapons were laid out; all her remaining arrows were still inside the quiver.

Lauren started wondering what kind of kidnappers she was dealing with as she slipped the sheath of arrows over her head. Ethan's sword had been placed on the table as well, and she soon grew anxious to know where he was.

Gripping the sword in one hand and her bow in the other, she cautiously proceeded up the staircase. She reached the end of it and found a long hallway stretching to her right, all the way down the end of the building, where there was the shining doors of an elevator. Rooms were lined up on either side of the hallway, and Lauren set about looking into each of them—searching for the boy and, if she had any sort of luck, their adopted pegasus.

Midway through her search, one thing became certain: they were not in any evil layer. From what she remembered from her time before Camp Half-Blood, and before being a Hunter, she was wandering around inside some sort of rich man's home. But a single look out one of the windows would quickly clarify that she was high up on a very tall _building_.

The city of New York lay below her, artificially lit up because the sun was already gone. This little fact startled Lauren, for she recalled that it was in the afternoon when they escaped from the quarries of Half-Blood Hill.

How long had she been unconscious?

The rooms were either used for storage, or contained technology that Lauren couldn't begin to comprehend. There were scraps of some kind of armor littered along the floor, and metal robots standing still in corners. Unsettled, she wondered whose home she was in.

Soon enough, she reached the end of the hall and was forced to enter the elevator. The doors closed. To her utter surprise and confusion, there weren't any buttons to press on the wall, though the glass above her head indicated that she was indeed standing in an elevator.

Lauren jumped when, suddenly, a loud voice cut into the silence: **"Good evening, miss."**

In an instant, she had whirled around and backed up against the metal doors, sword hefted up and slashing once, but it sliced through nothing. Her eyes scanned the tiny space she was in. She was the only one there. She looked up at the ceiling. No trap doors there. She was alone, yet who had spoken?

"Uh…" she started uncertainly, slowly dropping her sword-hand. "Hi?"

 **"Hello."**

It was a man's voice, but sounding oddly machinelike. A vague recollection sprung up in her mind, something the boys from the Hephaestus cabin had been gossiping about, a new form of technology… AI, was it? Artificial Intelligence.

Lauren had heard all about it, but it was all very vague by now. There didn't seem to be any human-looking androids standing in the elevator with her though… A voice machine, then?

"Where am I?" asked Lauren, scanning the walls and looking for a nook or cranny. "Who… _What_ are you?" It chilled her how much it sounded like the voice she'd heard in the woods just before she became unconscious, but it couldn't have been in the woods with them. It was a machine.

 **"I am Just A Rather Very Intelligent System,"** said the A.I. **"JARVIS, if you may. I was created by Tony Stark to assist him with his inventions and his household."**

"Tony Stark…" The name sounded familiar. No doubt she'd heard it from the Hephaestus cabin again. "Alright—where am I?" she repeated.

The elevator hummed to life and she felt a sudden tug in her stomach. She glanced up at the glass sign above her head and found the numbers changing in ascending order. They were going up. **"You are currently in Avengers Tower, Manhattan, New York City, miss; owned by Tony Stark, constructed and developed by Tony Stark, powered by his own invention: the Arc Reactor—"**

"Where are you taking me?" Lauren demanded, anticipating the moment the elevator would stop.

 **"Mr. Stark ordered me to bring you to the penthouse as soon as you woke up, miss. He requests your presence."**

"And why is that?"

 **"I'm afraid I can't tell."**

They were getting ever closer to the penthouse—she could see that. _Penthouse… the top floor. How am I going to get us out of there? Will the AI even let us into the elevator?_ She adjusted her grip on the sword, holding it tighter within her hand. Four more floors.

Unexpectedly, she caught a hint of movement from the corner of her eye. Glancing upward, she found a hint of light bouncing off something in one of the nooks above.

Lauren immediately reached up and jabbed her sword into the niche, and when she pulled the blade out, some kind of square piece of technology came along, with several wires sticking out of it. Lauren guessed that it was a camera of some sort, judging from the dilating lens behind the glass

She scowled and threw the scrap of metal to the ground. " _Apáti̱_ …"

A soft ding resounded along the metal walls.

 **"We have arrived,"** said JARVIS.

Lauren had already slipped Ethan's sword into a belt loop and drawn her bow before the doors even opened. Behind them was a massive room, larger than the entire Artemis cabin, if memory served. She took note of the floor-to-ceiling windows at the far end of the room that led to a balcony, and the counter to the right, and the lounging area in the middle with sofas and a matted crater; there was a fire place to the left and two ceiling fans above.

Everything was almost as luxurious as the reception area of the Empire State, if not more.

Lauren switched her attention to the three figures sitting in the middle of the room. Ethan's golden bronze hair stood out, but in front of him were two men who Lauren had only caught brief glimpses of in posters on passer-by boats or airplanes.

With her jaw taut, she watched as the men slowly brought their hands up in a gesture of defeat, looking at her with wide—but not surprised—eyes. Without speaking, she nodded briskly to Ethan. He opened his mouth to speak but only got one word out—"but"—before Lauren's cold stare silenced him.

Slowly, he stood from the couch and walked to stand behind her.

One of the men, the one with the beard and who looked most familiar, made a move to stand up. Lauren loosed one arrow and let it bury itself in the cushion beside the man, missing his leg by inches. Surprise flickered across his face. It wouldn't have hurt him, though. The Hunters' arrows were made of celestial bronze, apart from silver.

At least she had succeeded in frightening him.

"Stay seated and keep quiet," said Lauren, already backing away to the elevator. "Both of you."

Ethan stayed behind her wordlessly, more hesitant than her, which made her suspicious. "What did you tell them?" she muttered urgently to him.

"Nothing," said Ethan. "Look, they didn't kidnap us—"

"I know that."

"They saved us!"

Lauren's grit faltered, but she was quick to cover it up, as always. "It doesn't matter," she said. "We have to get to Olympus."

"Look," said the man, beside the one-and-only Tony Stark. "We don't want to hurt you, and something tells me you don't want to hurt us either—"

" _It doesn't matter_ ," Lauren repeated, louder this time. "Us being here will only bring you more harm than good. So let us go, do not follow us, and everything will go back to normal for the both of you."

Stark scoffed. " _Normal_. Psh, yeah right. No such thing as normal for us, huh, Bruce?" He elbowed the man beside him.

"Shut up, Tony," Bruce muttered, throwing Lauren an embarrassed yet slightly cautious look.

Neither of the men said anything more, and Lauren plucked up most of her resolve to drop her bow and return her arrow into the sheath, before urgently motioning for Ethan to enter the elevator. When he hesitated, she snarled: " _Get in_."

He met her gaze, and then a lot of things happened at once.

A startled yelp escaped his lips, the same time Lauren heard a faint whistling through the air. She whirled around and caught the arrow that would have impaled her shoulder. Quickly, she nocked the very same arrow and drew her bow, aiming for the new arrival standing by the fireplace.

The first thing that registered in her mind was the fact that he had not been there before she'd turned around. The second thing was that his weapon of choice was a bow, like hers. His appearance came in third, but that alone made her blood run cold.

She scowled. " _Foniás_." _Murderer._

Stark still hadn't dropped his hands, but she heard him mutter to Bruce: "What'd she say?"

A low growl crawled through her throat, and the archer had the audacity to _speak_.

"Talk again and I'll let the arrow fly," he said, his voice devoid of emotion—exactly how she remembered.

"Orion," Lauren said through gritted teeth. "You killed many of my sisters the last time I saw you. I might just return the favor."

He shook his head once. "I've never seen you before in my life."

She hissed. "A liar, as always."

Behind her, she could hear Ethan's heavy breathing. The looks on Stark's and Bruce's faces resembled genuine confusion and incorruptibility, and so did the archer's. Lauren felt her anger dissipate, but only slightly.

She started noticing the little details, then—like how he was wearing a uniform of some sort, something Orion would never wear; how his eyes weren't bronze and mechanical, but a subtle grey; how he was _not_ 20-feet tall. He couldn't be Orion, unless Hades had, for some reason, allowed him to keep his soul and let it float back to the world, where he possessed some poor mortal who looked insanely like him.

Starting to calm herself, Lauren marginally loosened the draw of her bow. "You have one minute to explain to me who you people are, including full names, date of birth, occupation and family ties—and which one of you found us in the woods, or this arrow is going straight to your hearts."

Bruce smirked. "I thought it didn't matter."

She threw him a warning glare. "Fifty-five seconds."

"Hey, _I'm_ the one in charge here—" the archer started, but was cut off when Bruce sent him a look; rather similar to the one Lauren had given Ethan. The archer didn't look too happy about it, but he kept his mouth shut.

Lauren jutted her chin out to Stark. "Let's start with you."

"Alright, alright." He hefted his hands up, and Lauren narrowed her eyes at the hint of arrogance in his eyes. "I'm Anthony Edward Stark. I own Stark Industries. I was born on May 29th 1970, to the late Howard and Maria Stark."

 _Iron Man,_ Lauren thought. He was arrogant, but there was no trace of a lie on his face. She briskly gestured to Bruce, and he spoke in a soft voice. "My name is Robert Bruce Banner, son of Dr. Brian Banner and Rebecca. I was born in Dayton, Ohio on April 4th 1970. I'm a nuclear physicist."

Again, there was no hint of a lie. Lauren steeled her gaze and turned it, lastly, to the second archer in the room apart from her. He hadn't withdrawn his arrow, but she wasn't planning to either until she and Ethan were safely behind _closed_ elevator doors. "You," she stated coldly. "Thirty seconds."

For the whole of ten seconds, he kept his mouth shut and returned her glare. At fifteen, Stark cleared his throat and said, "Barton, even though this lovely person doesn't know that _arrows_ cannot pierce my heart"—he made a clicking noise and nodded at Bruce's direction—"I don't think Banner here would want to be incapacitated by a _girl_."

"Arrows won't work on me either, but you know…" Bruce trailed off, giving a light shrug.

Lauren narrowed her eyes. Were these people monsters? That was impossible; she would have noticed the malevolent aura immediately. Despite the archer's obvious hostility, she was quite positive that they were completely human.

Stark could be a tiny complication, considering the light in his chest. An arrow certainly wouldn't pierce that, but either way, Lauren wasn't planning on killing any of them. She just wanted answers.

"Less than ten seconds now," she stated plainly, pushing Ethan completely into the elevator. He had stepped out only mere seconds before _Barton_ had released his threats, but now Lauren was again determined on getting them to their main goal from the beginning: Olympus.

She watched as both Stark and Banner sent Barton expectant looks.

The archer didn't extract his drawn arrow, but he spoke: "My name is Clint Barton— ("Oh sweet baby Jesus, _thank you_ ," said Stark, but kept his mouth shut after that.) —I was born in Iowa, and I work in a secret government organization you can't have the name to." A light smirk trailed up his lips and Lauren wanted nothing more than to punch it off his face. "The rest of my personal history is classified."

"I bet," Lauren heard Ethan murmur from behind her, and… was that a tone of awe in his voice?

She scowled, but otherwise stepped into the elevator as well. "Which of you found us in the woods?"

" _And_ patched you up," Stark added. "But hey, all in a day's work. Actually it was me and Brucey who found you, brought you back here."

Lauren suddenly remembered something. "And the pega—and the _horse_?" she prodded. "Where we were, there should have been a horse there as well."

"Oh, yeah," said Bruce, scratching his head. "It sort of ran away… after it saw Tony, that is. He came in wearing his suit and it must have freaked it out."

 _She must have run back to camp._ "You," Lauren gestured with her arrow to Stark, "Tell your A.I. to take us back to reception."

"You've met JARVIS?" he said in reply.

"Now!" Lauren snapped, her eyes flickering from the men to the windows behind them, looking for signs of frost or a cloud of more _venti_ … and there were plenty of falling snow, but none so large or sleet so heavy that could suggest it was more of Khione's work. With wary eyes, she scrutinized Stark from afar as he whistled.

"Yo, JARVIS," he said.

 **"Yes, sir?"** came the voice from inside the elevator. Ethan jumped at the sudden sound.

"Take these two back to reception _safely_ , alright? No brownout surprises or anything like that."

 **"Of course, sir."**

Before the doors closed, Lauren caught final glimpses of Bruce Banner's disappointed face, Clint Barton's hard glare, and a teasing wink from Tony Stark. She was barely able to keep her arrow from flying between the metal doors and whizzing past his head. She would have shot for his chest, but that would have been a waste of a perfectly good arrow.

An arrow that wasn't hers, but an arrow nonetheless.

* * *

 **don't forget to leave a review! :) :) :)**


	4. Chapter 3 - Counsel

**Alright guys. Let's get some things straight.**

 **I don't watch Agents of SHIELD. I just don't have the time to, and honestly, I don't want to. I tried watching the first episode, and I got bored.**

 **And I'm not taking anything away from the people who do like the show. I'm just saying this because it occurred to me last night that this piece of information will actually be really important for you guys.**

 **Why?** **Because Captain America: Winter Soldier showed that SHIELD was infiltrated by HYDRA, and apparently, in Agents of SHIELD, there are these scores of people (whose names aren't at all familiar to me) who actually sort of rebuild SHIELD somewhere (?) out of scratch.** **Long story short, this story will be completely ignoring whatever happens in that TV show.**

 **And I guess this story will also be ignoring Uncle Rick's new Magnus Chase book, and anything that comes after that.**

 **Here's a small list of things that I've changed /ignored for the sake of this story:**

 **1\. Everyone knows that Coulson is very much alive.**

 **2\. Nick Fury is still the Director of SHIELD.**

 **3\. The Norse and everything that has to do with the Norse is how the MCU describes it, and not how Rick Riordan does in Magnus Chase.**

 **4\. Thalia died during the Second Giant War.**

 **And the list goes on. ( Review or PM me if I missed anything.)**

 **Basically, all I'm saying is: don't look into it too much. Because I sort of wrote this story on a whim, and it turned into this huge thing that really means so much to me. So yeah. No hate please.**

 **ALSO, I guess this story takes place somewhere between The Avengers and Avengers: Age of Ultron (for the MCU), and two or so years after The Blood of Olympus (for the Percy Jackson universe).**

 **That's all, I guess. Sorry for the hella long A/N, but it was important.**

 **Anything you might recognise belongs to Rick Riordan, Stan Lee, and Marvel.**

* * *

Lauren was doing her best not to think too much about what had just happened. But Ethan was freaking out.

"Why'd you do that?" he exclaimed. "They were the freaking Avengers! They were all over TV and stuff. They saved the world from these alien things—"

"I know what they did," Lauren snapped, lugging him along past the busy nighttime streets of New York. "And I know who they are. But they are still mortals. We can't let them get tangled up in our business. You should already know that."

She jogged them down a pedestrian lane, keeping her head down and hissing for Ethan to do the same. It was a well-known fact that New York was the city that never slept, which meant demigods couldn't very much wander through Manhattan with weapons in hand. About a dozen people passed by, staring at Lauren oddly. The Mist probably made them think she was just wearing a costume, on her way to some cosplay convention downtown.

With long strides, she led Ethan through most of the bustling city, keeping him from attracting too much attention; though she would never have admitted it out loud, he was the one who kept her from many head-on collisions with cars and taxi cabs.

"Don't you know how to cross a road?" Ethan demanded, pulling her away from a glaring contest with one of the taxi drivers. "Jeez."

She scowled, snatching her arm away—as if burned. "It has been 17 years since I've had to walk through… such _populated_ streets. And I have to say"—she glowered at another citizen who bumped into her shoulder—"the people have lost their charm."

"We're not the only ones who are hurrying—"

"You forget your place, boy," she suddenly snapped. "We are hurrying because there could very well be another incoming global crisis on our hands. These people are hurrying because of their petty movie dates and job interviews!"

For a moment, she thought she had finally silenced the boy's incessant arguing. But then she heard him say to himself: "Movie dates aren't petty…"

Her eyes flashed and she actually reached for an arrow, before she soon realized what she was doing. Dropping her arm again, she met Ethan's frightened gaze only for half a second before looking away, scowling.

"Come on," she said, quickening her pace to walk ahead of him. "We're close."

She said nothing more for the remainder of the walk, and was glad that Ethan followed suit. After another quarter of an hour of walking, they were finally standing before the Empire State Building—in all its untapped glory as it towered dozens of stories above them. Lauren slung her bow onto her back with a determined expression.

She would have thought that Ethan had seen the Building before, considering how confident he'd been while on the way. But when she turned her head, she found him staring at the very top with his jaw hanging open. She rolled her eyes at the look of awe on his face, and then walked through the spinning doors.

There weren't much people inside, only a few more loiterers and the lady behind the information desk. Her smile was just as dazzling as ever, but it occurred to Lauren that the security guard—who was always, _always_ , beside the receptionist—wasn't behind the desk. Which was odd.

Stopping in her tracks, she searched for the familiar patch of curly hair among the people milling about, and found nothing.

"Where are you?" she muttered, glancing skyward just in case he was already upstairs, for some reason. No reply came. Not even the rumbling of thunder.

"What now?" asked Ethan.

"We go up," Lauren answered. Normally, she wouldn't have travelled to Olympus without talking to the guard, but he wasn't present anyway, and it was urgent. She hurriedly pulled Ethan into one of the elevators, ignoring his and the receptionist's protests. Before the _other_ security guards could stop them, the doors had already closed.

"Top floor, right?" said Ethan, his hand slowly making its way to press the highest button. Lauren swatted it away, scowling at him.

"No," she said, and then faced her own reflection on the smooth elevator doors. "600th floor," she stated loudly and clearly. "Mount Olympus."

 **"State your purpose,"** a male voice said, not very different from JARVIS's.

"To seek counsel with Artemis," Lauren replied.

Nothing happened. The silence stretched into a long half-minute before the voice came again: **"Request repudiated."** The elevator doors opened again, revealing a huffing receptionist and a burly security guard. They reached into the elevator, but this time, it was Ethan who closed the doors in their faces. They were barely able to pull their arms out in time.

 **"State your purpose."**

"I seek counsel with Artemis!" said Lauren, agitated.

This time, there was no answer stating that her request had been _repudiated_. The doors simply opened once more. Lauren repeatedly tapped the Close button, but it refused to work. She and Ethan were dragged back out to the busy streets outside.

They'd been kicked out of Olympus before they'd even entered.

"This doesn't make any sense," Lauren muttered, fishing into all her pockets in search for a tiny, important thing.

"Maybe they're busy or something," said Ethan as he sat on the marble steps of one of the many fountains in the city.

She rolled her eyes. "The gods are always busy. Do you have a drachma?"

"Those coin things that Chiron kept tossing to the Iris campers?"

Lauren nodded once, and he started digging into his pockets. After a few seconds, he released a triumphant cry, pulling a drachma out of his pants' back pocket. Lauren snatched it out of his hand and walked up onto the fountain's top step.

"O Iris, goddess of the rainbow, please accept my offering," she muttered quickly, breathing hotly onto the golden coin before tossing it into the fountain. A yelp of protest erupted from Ethan, which she easily silenced with a wave of her hand. Nothing happened with the fountain—it usually would have started bubbling, or steaming, but the drachma just continued in its slow descent to the bottom.

Lauren sighed. "You have anymore?"

There was a moment of silence before: "Uh, sure," said Ethan, handing her a slightly rusty drachma.

"Oh, Fleecy, do me a solid." Holding her breath, Lauren flipped the coin (for luck) and let it splash into the ice-cold water. She waited a few seconds before a ringing sound crept into her ears.

 _ **"What would you like to see?"**_ said a woman's voice.

Lauren didn't bother to look behind her and at Ethan, knowing she was the only one who'd heard. "Show me the council room of Olympus."

 _ **"Request has been denied. Please ask for another—"**_

"Show me Olympus."

 _ **"Request has been denied. Please—"**_

"Artemis," Lauren interrupted. "Show me Artemis." She was surprised to hear a sigh on the other side of the call, which was very unlike one of Iris' helpers.

The water started bubbling. Colored water spurted upwards, a second fountain in the average-sized pool, arcing sideward to form a make-shift surface. The water started gurgling, and Lauren had to inch closer in order to realize that it was not gurgling but, in fact, there were voices: a high-pitched yet firm woman's speech nearly lost behind the thunderous booming of a man.

Lauren knew the woman's voice like the back of her hand; the man's, not so much, but she'd heard it enough to be able to tell who it was. She hastily rearranged her clothes and straightened her stance. Subtly, she gestured for Ethan to do the same.

Not soon enough, it seemed.

A figure walked into view of the Iris message, donned in a dress that very much resembled moonshine. Her hair was no longer in a high ponytail, but fell in luscious red curls down her back. Lauren stared at her in reverence, bowing her head slightly.

"My Lady Artemis," she greeted curtly, before launching into a brief rundown of what happened the last day. "Camp Half-Blood's borders were breached. A large pack of wolves attacked, but I was able to safely escape with the boy, like you told me to." (She decided against mentioning their encounter with the group of mortals in 'Avengers Tower', figuring that it didn't matter anyway.)

The goddess nodded briskly. "How were the borders breached?"

"Something went wrong with the Fleece, I think. It frosted over and for some reason, the hoarfrost was able to disable the magic." Lauren noticed the grim expression that appeared on Artemis' face, and frowned. "Do you know what could have caused such a thing, my Lady?"

Artemis glanced around her, and just by that, Lauren knew that the other gods were standing behind her—perhaps even Zeus himself. "We have our assumptions," the goddess stated.

"It's that snow goddess, isn't it?" Lauren quietly said. "She was not put down during the Giant War, and now she is back—"

"Aeolus is searching for her as we speak. For now, you must send an Iris message to Chiron and ask him of everything that has transpired since you've been gone. You and the Hunters will stay where you are—though separated—and you will keep the boy safe." Artemis cocked an eyebrow. "That's an order, Lauren."

"Yes, Artemis," she replied, albeit reluctantly.

The goddess nodded, and several voices started muttering in at once. Lauren was able to discern a few words like 'Tartarus' and 'overthrow'. The call had then become too muffled for her to make anything else out properly.

Sighing, she turned around and held her hand out to Ethan. He stared at the place where the Iris message had just dissolved. "What was that?" he asked, blinking rapidly with wide eyes.

"An Iris message, something gods and demigods use to communicate from afar. Since we are not allowed to use cellphones, we use these. Now," she waved her hand impatiently, "Give me another drachma."

Ethan frowned deeply and fished another one of the golden coins out of his pocket. "That's my last one," he said, handing it to her.

"It will do." Lauren flipped the coin into the water, effortlessly ignoring the odd looks passersby's were giving her. She sighed and closed her eyes. "Oh, Fleecy, do me a solid."

 _ **"What would you like to see?"**_

"Show me Chiron, in Camp Half-Blood."

Behind her, she noticed Ethan step up from his original spot to stand beside her, looking at the extra spring of water—which was slowly coloring to form an image—earnestly. She couldn't blame him. She was eager to see the Hunters as well, anxious to discover what happened after they escaped.

Despite the fact that there had been very little of them to start with—ever since their last violent happenstance with Orion—she knew that the Hunters could take care of themselves against a pack of wolves. Even though said wolves were larger and more powerful than normal.

Still, as second-in-command to Artemis, it was Lauren's job to be vexed.

Light erupted from the center of the fountain's make-shift mirror, and an image came into view: a large half-horse half-man trotting up to the Iris message, and he could be found standing in front of the familiar circle of cabins within camp.

The _very_ familiar golden cabin of Apollo towered directly behind Chiron, with tanned kids running around the shining exteriors. Ethan stepped ever closer, the same way Chiron was.

"Lauren?" said the centaur, his eyes widening in recognition. "Ethan?"

"We are in Manhattan, near the Empire State," Lauren stated coolly. "Tried entering Olympus. Never got up. I called Artemis and she told us to stay where we were. We're fine." She raised an eyebrow. "How are things over there? Are my Hunters all right?"

Chiron ran a hand over his distressed face. "They're fine," he said. "The camp is fine, though there are still a few dead wolves scattered about… But we're fine."

"That's good to hear," Ethan spoke up from behind Lauren. "What happened anyway? Are the borders working again?"

"Yes, yes," the centaur replied. "I had Peleus back on duty as soon as I could. He burned away the frost… or whatever it was. But there was some sort of magic on it. I could feel it."

Lauren nodded in agreement. "Artemis said that Khione could be back. She never died during the Titan War, and the Olympians are guessing that she's come back to terrorize us again."

"It does explain the snow in your dreams…" Chiron said. "And the wolves that came—"

"Also from the dreams."

He thought for a moment. "It still doesn't explain why you'd dream about the Hunter's demise, though…"

 _He could be back as well,_ Lauren thought grimly, tapping her chin lightly. She decided not to tell the centaur her thoughts on the matter, not until they confirmed it. Instead, she said, "You should chain the dragon onto the tree, just in case… _she_ happens again."

Chiron nodded briskly before turning around and calling for a camper. The closest kid, one from the Apollo cabin, ran to intercept the centaur, listened for his order, and jogged out of view once more. Presumably to Half-Blood Hill. Lauren couldn't figure how he would be able to chain the dragon single-handedly. Dragons were very vicious creatures, and they wouldn't want to be tied to a tree. But perhaps Peleus was tamer than she previously perceived.

She remembered a small detail, and asked, "Has Blaze returned?"

"She's back in the stables," Chiron replied. "A little bruised, but nothing much to worry about. She'll be back in condition before the end of the week. And Edward's on his way to get Peleus' chain from the Hephaestus cabin as we speak." He turned to face them again. "Is there anything else I should know about?"

"Nothing—"

"Yeah!" Ethan cut in, beaming in excitement. "So we got attacked by these storm spirits on the way here, right? Lauren sort of got stabbed—"

Chiron sputtered, looking at Lauren like she'd just grown a wart before his very eyes. " _Stabbed_?"

"Yeah, so these two guys come flying in, right? One of them was Iron Man! Freaking _Iron Man_!"

"And the other one?"

"That Hulk dude. They're from the Avengers!"

The centaur stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I have heard of them… The others weren't there?"

"That Hawkeye dude was back at Avengers tower. Iron Man brought us there and healed Lauren! It was so cool. They asked me all these kinds of questions, but I didn't answer them because I knew Lauren wouldn't like it. Then she just up and appears out of nowhere with her weapons! And then—"

" _Enough_ ," Lauren snapped, sending the boy a heated glare. "I did what I had to. They were mortals. Now they will not have to be stuck dealing with _demigod_ problems." She scowled at Ethan for a moment longer before looking at Chiron. "Fetch Jill, will you? I need to speak with her."

The centaur bowed marginally before trotting away. He was only gone for the good of ten seconds before a raven-haired girl jogged into view, dirt smearing her face and a few scratches on her jacket, but no worse for wear. She regarded Lauren wearily, nodding in greeting: "Lauren."

"Jill." She started waving for Ethan to exit the view of the Iris message, not wanting to touch him more than necessary. He didn't look too happy about it, pursing his lips, but eventually a heavy sigh escaped his lips before he walked off to a diner a few ways down the street. Lauren stared after him, waiting for him to disappear behind the doors before returning her attention to Jill.

"What news?" she inquired, only just noticing that the girl's quiver was empty.

Jill exhaled deeply. "No casualties, thankfully," she said. "We were able to kill all the wolves in the perimeter. As far as I know, none of the campers got killed, but I saw a few bleeding pretty badly in the infirmary." She paused, as if hesitant. "Chiron says that you talked with Artemis."

"Yes."

"It would make sense for the snow goddess to come back, I guess…" Jill readjusted her quiver, which was hanging limply at the side of her hip, most likely from a torn strap. "When are you and the boy coming back?"

"I cannot be sure," Lauren replied solemnly. "Artemis told me to stay put, and she wants you to stay where you are as well. I don't like the idea, but we can never seem to refuse her, can we?"

A hint of a smile trailed up Jill's lips. "How long do you think we'll have to stay apart?" she asked.

"A week or two, perhaps? Probably for as long as it takes for the gods to find the snow goddess… and to figure out a way to deal with her," Lauren added. Jill nodded, her expression grave. Lauren noticed the Iris message start flickering with static, and waved a hand to the girl on the other end of the call. "I have to go. I'm appointing you second… _third_ -in-command?"

Jill chuckled lightly, and Lauren grinned. "You will be in charge of the girls while I am here, alright? Make sure they don't kill any of the men there."

"No promises."

Lauren laughed as the Iris message started turning grey. "Do not do anything I wouldn't do," she said at the last minute, hoping the girl on the other end could still hear her properly.

Jill opened her mouth to say more, but before she could, the image in the fountain completely died down. The second spring of water inclined slowly, before completely disappearing back into the pool.

Lauren stared into the cool waters, seeing the three drachmas she'd dropped into it and wondering what Jill wanted to say. She wished she'd been able to see the rest of her sisters-in-arms, just to see that they were really fine and hadn't killed any of Chiron's male campers yet, but Ethan was officially all out of drachmas.

Remembering Ethan, she turned around and looked to the diner down the street, where he had gone into. It was dark inside, yet Lauren knew that it wasn't so late for them to have closed already. If her calculations were correct, it was only a little half past 8 o'clock.

There were no signs of movement inside, which was odd… because Ethan should have been there, and he couldn't have gotten in if somebody hadn't let him in. Perhaps he had a key, but that was highly doubtful.

Then perhaps someone had let him in, but why hadn't they turned the lights on? Surely it was difficult to see with how dark it was inside, considering the blinds were shut…

An uneasy feeling crept into Lauren's gut. She normally wouldn't have worried for a boy, but Artemis had given orders: keep him safe. The Hunters knew enough about how mortals had evolved, with their technology as well as their arrogances. New York City was a big place, and it could have been harboring many delinquents.

Lauren pulled an arrow out of her quiver and slowly advanced towards the diner.

The closer she got, the more she noticed just how quiet the streets had become. Had the people thinned out so much during two of the Iris messages? It couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes. She nocked an arrow and held it in place before pulling one slit of the blinds down. As she'd feared, it was completely dark inside. Even with her concentration placed fully in her vision, she couldn't make out a figure anywhere.

She pulled away and, placing her hand on the door knob, took a deep breath. Then she pulled the door open, and the first thing she put through the doorway was the point of her arrow.

Nothing changed. The rate of movement was just as low as it was before. Warily, and heightening her senses, Lauren walked into the diner with her bow drawn. It was very dark, and she was lucky enough not to walk straight into a chair or a table, or the counter and a coffee machine. She held her breath and walked deeper into the diner.

"Ethan," she hissed. "Where are you?"

There came a single, sharp click, followed by a rattling sound. The first word that came to her mind was: _Grenade._ Lauren jumped in surprise and backpedaled, knocking over a chair and stubbing her heel against the leg of a table. _A table._

She hopped over the piece of furniture, landing on her feet and in a crouching position. She pushed the table so it lay on its side. In one swift movement, she returned her arrow into the quiver and ducked her head behind the firm surface of the table. She hoped it wasn't wood. She hoped it was metal, or something stronger.

Her ears were pricked, waiting for the deafening boom of the grenade going off. Instead, she heard a continuous hissing sound; not like a snake's, but like when steam rushes through a crack on a pipe…

Slowly, she brought her head up to peek past the edge of the table. The atmosphere in the room seemed to have become thicker, and it was getting hard to breathe. With narrowed eyes, Lauren noticed that the air before her had adapted a strange grey tinge. A soft thud echoed from behind her.

She was getting lightheaded now. She tried fighting past the nausea and the dizziness, but only ended up getting herself an intense headache and a body going limp. She dropped her bow only seconds before sinking to the ground. Her chest felt constricted, like someone was squeezing her lungs. Black spots appeared in her vision and her eyelids slowly drooped closed.

Only half-awake, she noticed a pair of feet coming towards her; a single nerve in her brain must have registered that they were not Ethan's shoes. She tried to stand, but it was as if someone had placed the weight of the world on her shoulders.

It occurred to her that it would be the second time for her to fall into unconsciousness that day. Then, she blacked out completely.

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 **[meow] leave a review please [meow]**


	5. Chapter 4 - Captive

**Anything you might recognise either belongs to Rick Riordan, Stan Lee, or Marvel. I only own Lauren and the few OC's in this story.**

 **Enjoy!**

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When Lauren woke up, it came with the worst headache in history and a foul taste in her mouth.

She groaned, forcing her eyes open. Light blinded her for a moment and she shifted to feel her hip for Ethan's sword. It was only then that she realized she couldn't move her hands. They were stuck behind her back, with a strong coldness biting into the skin of her wrists.

It registered to her that perhaps it was Khione who had captured her—and maybe Ethan as well. Perhaps she'd sent a couple of her minions, with belts of poisonous smoke bombs to make their jobs easier… though it did not make sense for a goddess to use such modern contraptions when she had access to _magic_.

Lauren's vision cleared and she grasped the fact that maybe monsters hadn't been behind her kidnapping after all.

Two unfamiliar people stood before her, hands clasped behind their backs with serious looks on their faces—(much like how Artemis was during a briefing with the younger Hunters). One was a redheaded woman in a tight blue one-piece, and Lauren immediately recognized the symbol emblazoned on her right chest: a black eagle with its wings spread out. The second stranger was a man wearing jeans, a red shirt, and a leather jacket. He had a sturdy build and a square jaw, and hair _almost_ as golden as Apollo's.

Most girls were sure to have thought him attractive, but Lauren just found his face extremely annoying. She regarded him and the woman warily, fingering the cuffs on her wrists to see if they were loose enough to be slipped off. If they were weak enough for her to break.

"Welcome back," said the man. The American accent was obvious in his voice. Lauren said nothing, furiously continuing to _try_ and break the cuffs off. He sighed: "It's fine if you don't want to talk. We can keep you here for as long as we want. You have no weapons."

Lauren schooled on a sneer. "I am going to get out of here."

"We stripped you of every weapon you could have had and had you X-rayed," the redheaded woman spoke up. "Anything you might still have on you or in you, we have more. Enough to take you down."

 _Did they run tests on me?_ she thought, and a pit formed in her stomach. She put on an easy face.

"That is what you think," she retorted. It was a lie though; she had no weapons at all. They'd taken her bow, her quiver of arrows, Ethan's sword, and even the small pocketknife she always kept hidden inside her boot.

For some reason, they'd stripped her of her parka as well, leaving her in a simple black shirt. But she'd learned how to grasp at straws even when it seemed futile. She brought to mind Artemis' teachings: _Be patient. The time to strike is always nigh, but the perfect moment must be waited on constantly._

Steadying her breathing, Lauren glanced about. They were in a small room, only several feet larger than an elevator lift. The walls seemed to be matted, grey. Behind the strangers was a simple black door, with a long rectangle of glass attached beside it.

It acted as a mirror for Lauren, and she found that her captors both had guns stuck to the hems of their pants, though the woman had a holster.

"We won't use them, if that's what you're thinking," the man said, interrupting her train of thought. "That is, if you don't give us reason to. Will you give us reason to?"

That time, Lauren did not reply. She decided it was best not to. The cuffs weren't giving any sign of slipping off or breaking apart; they were too tight, too thick.

"What were you doing in downtown Manhattan anyway?" the woman inquired. "Last I heard from Barton, you were still close to Avengers Tower." She raised an eyebrow. "You've met them, right? Clint, Stark, Banner… I heard you made a real good impression."

That was sarcasm, Lauren realized. And it was an understatement too. Were these people somehow allied with the men back in that tower, the ones who had apparently 'saved' her and Ethan from the woods? She thought for a moment, remembering the famous Avengers Ethan couldn't stop going on about, and she became fairly sure that there was a golden-haired man and redheaded woman in there. She scoffed in incredulity.

"Something piss you off?" the woman said, crossing her arms.

"The Avengers," Lauren muttered crossly. "I suppose I've gained the privilege of being _held captive_ by all of them?"

The two 'superheroes' shared a look, though the blonde looked none too happy about being recognized. (What was his name? Captain America?) He frowned and said, "You know about the Avengers?"

 _Who doesn't?_ she wanted to reply, but knew it was better to just keep quiet. They didn't deserve her attention, or her answers, or her obedience. She would have knocked them both out cold already if her hands weren't cuffed.

She scowled. _Real warriors don't use traps. Trickery, but no snares or deceptions. These people are cowards._

A new fire rekindled in her and she renewed her attempts at escaping the cuffs, earning her some deep bruises and several scrapes. Vaguely, she heard Captain sigh.

"She's gonna hurt herself," he murmured.

His companion didn't meet his eyes. "Fury ordered that we keep her cuffed," she said. "You heard what Stark said about her. She could be capable of escaping and we'd have to track her all over again—"

"Don't you think Stark was overreacting? I mean, you _know_ Stark, Tasha. I'd take Barton's word on it but he wouldn't say a thing."

The woman frowned. "That's what I'm worried about. He's never been like that, not since Loki … you think something could be wrong?"

"Maybe the girl said something that caught him off guard."

"That's just it, Steve. Clint _never_ gets caught off guard."

Once she said that, their eyes turned to Lauren, who was doing her best to hold back a mocking smile. She wasn't masochistic or anything like that, but them trying to figure out what was happening was truly entertaining for her. She'd forgotten just how amusing it could be to watch mortals trip over their own feet on the way to knowledge.

The woman noticed the slight smile on her lips, and stepped closer to her. "What's so funny?"

"Your incompetence," Lauren replied, pulling the corners of her lips back down. "I said this to your friends before, and I will say it to you now: it's better if you just let me go. Then you will not have to worry about having a _girl_ beat you in a fight."

"Is that just you?" the woman said. "Or does that kid have a few tricks up his sleeve too?"

Lauren narrowed her eyes. "The _kid_ does not know how to take care of himself. Which is why you will show him to me now and let us go, or I will leave you with more than just a few bruises."

"Really touchy, huh?" The woman tilted her head. "Don't worry. We won't hurt him. He's been cooperating so far anyway. I can't say too much for you, though."

 _Lie,_ Lauren thought. "How about you tell me what kind of information you want from us, and perhaps I will not hurt you _too_ much."

Again, the two strangers shared a look. The woman shrugged, and Captain opened his mouth to speak; before a word could leave his mouth, an almost-inaudible crackling came from his ear.

Lauren frowned in confusion for a moment before recalling a conversation she'd had with a young Hunter before. The new arrival had talked of "a gadget that secret agents have, some kind of earbud where other people could talk through, like a super-portable, super-tiny cellphone."

She watched as Captain's eyebrows furrowed together, and willed her senses to heighten, like how she'd done in the diner.

 _ **"More abnormal power surges in Long Island Sound,"**_ she heard a man say. _**"The Director wants Barton and Romanoff there immediately."**_

 _Power surges at Camp…_ It was the Fleece again. It had to be. Something had gone wrong. Either Peleus had somehow broken free of his chains and went for a walk in the woods, or Khione had forced him to leave.

She just hoped that the borders came back on before Barton and Romanoff (whom she assumed was the redhead) arrived, else they'd see the Camp. And mortals weren't supposed to see the Camp, because no one was sure whether the Mist would be able to hide something so big.

Apparently, Romanoff had an earpiece as well. She nodded briskly, threw Lauren one last wary look, before turning around and exiting the room.

Lauren was uncomfortable and infuriated that she'd been left inside a room with a _man_ , and so she refused to look at him. Her wrists hurt, and she was fairly sure she'd gotten a cut in there somewhere, but she didn't stop pulling against them. Slipping them off was impossible, even with sweaty hands, but she thought that with enough force, they would break eventually.

She stared at herself in the mirror, at her messy hair that she couldn't care less about, and the paleness of her face that must have been from the air she'd inhaled from their ambush.

 _My lady Artemis,_ she prayed fervently. _Ethan and I have been captured. Some kind of government organization. They were keeping an eye on Half-Blood Hill, on the fluxes of the Fleece. We have to warn Chiron. Please, send help._

"So are you going to talk or not?" Captain America said, walking closer to Lauren with slow steps.

She didn't look at him. "You have no idea what you are getting yourself into."

"Then enlighten me." Standing directly in front of her, now, Lauren was even more determined to stare past him—seemingly _through_ him "Who are you?" he asked. "Why did Stark find you in the woods with a stab wound on your hip?"

She only scoffed.

"He said that you pointed a _gun_ at them… Where'd you find such a fancy gun anyway? You're way too young to buy one."

 _A gun,_ she mused silently. "Assume what you must. I'll have escaped before you get the true answers you are looking for."

He was quiet for a long time. She didn't get anywhere with the handcuffs. The time finally came when she got so frustrated with them that she slammed them against the chair.

A dark look crossed Captain's face. "Stop," he said, and then exited the room. Lauren could hear his footsteps echo down the hallway, then voices. Past the door, and considering the distance, it was futile for her to listen in. Oddly enough, he came back only a few minutes later, but he came back with someone else in his arms.

Lauren narrowed her eyes in suspicion, watching as he placed a chair beside her and set Ethan down there. The was cuffed as well, but that was only to be expected. His eyes were closed and his head drooped forward. Lauren could see that he was breathing, still alive, and she figured that perhaps his metabolism was weaker than hers, considering she was practically immortal.

Reluctantly, she raised her eyes and stared at Captain, who had resumed his position in front of her, arms crossed.

"Will you answer my questions now?" he said.

Now, she wasn't so daft to think that he'd brought Ethan to her out of the goodness of his heart. But he did give her what she asked for, even though it was for all the wrong reasons, and she had to pay him back in some way.

"Only one," she said. Artemis may have taught her to hate men, but she didn't teach them how to be capricious. The goddess would have agreed with her decision, no matter how revolting it was.

"Alright…" The man stared at her for a moment, making it so that she had to look away. Then he said, "Why would you take a kid with you?" And that made her look up again. "You obviously aren't someone to be trifled with, you have a gun, and some stick… _thing_." He tilted his head. "It's either he's your brother and your parents just died and you're going on a murder spree, or you two are in some deep trouble… Which one is it?"

He could have used his one chance for a much more reasonable question, but Lauren was satisfied that he hadn't. She knew she had to answer carefully, though, in order not to give anything away.

She took a second to think before saying, "Neither…" And, after a moment, added: "I have my orders."

Captain nodded his head slowly, a knowing look in his eye. She didn't know why it was there, nor did she want to.

Afterwards, he continued spewing questions one after the other, but she kept her mouth shut. It soon grew tedious and all she wanted to do was to tell him to shut up and go away, but speaking would only bring him to the conclusion that she was, in fact, listening. And she was.

She knew he was asking questions all about her "gun", who she was, who Ethan was, where they came from, if they knew anything about what was happening at Long Island Sound—but she couldn't let him know. Artemis wouldn't be too enthusiastic, and neither would Zeus.

Soon enough, he stopped talking altogether. Another five minutes of Lauren staring at the floor, and he was out the door with a weary sigh. When his footsteps sounded far enough away, Lauren raised her head and looked at Ethan.

He was still unconscious, but soft grunts and groans escaped from his mouth from time to time. She knew that he was having a dream again; she hoped it wasn't _the_ dream.

An idea sprang to mind and she tucked her legs in as near as they could, before swinging them back and forth, planning for the chair to fall either forward or backward because of the momentum. However, she soon realized that her chair was screwed into the floor. And with cuffs on, she wasn't going to be able to remove it from place.

Their only hope of escaping their iron restraints was if Ethan woke up and started rocking _his_ chair. But Lauren wasn't sure if he'd be able to get up again when the chair was knocked over, with him still on it.

The Captain didn't seem to be coming back—unless he went for a sixty minute interrogation break, that is. Lauren was left inside the quiet room with a restless Ethan. She kept rocking her feet backward and forward, as hard as she could. The corners of the seat dug into the undersides of her knees. The time came when it became so painful that she had to stop.

While catching her breath, Ethan picked that time to snap from his insentient state.

He woke with a loud gasp, making Lauren flinch in surprise. She watched as he tried to bring his hands up, perhaps to wipe the perspiration dripping down his face. The cuffs clanked against the metal chair beneath him, and for one brief second, the chair dragged across the floor—only an inch or so but it moved.

He yelped in surprise and probably in slight pain. "Ow! What—? Lauren? What's—Why are we cuffed? Where are we?"

"Quiet," she hissed in reply.

"What? Why—Oh…" He trailed off, staring at the mirror by the door. Lauren glanced at it in confusion. What was so intimidating about a mirror? She wanted to inquire what it was he was seeing and yet she wasn't, but he answered her before she could even ask. "Lauren, that's one-way glass…"

 _One-way glass._ She remembered now, from all the crime shows her mother used to watch while Lauren pretended she was asleep. Police officers used one-way glass for interrogation rooms, so they could see into the room from outside, but the person-under-question _inside_ could only see a mirror reflecting his own guilt-ridden face.

She stared at the glass in contempt as the boy said, "Do you think they're watching us right now? Like, with hidden cameras or something?"

"I do not doubt it." With much more effort than she expected, she focused on her hearing and turned her head to the side, letting her ear face the mirror.

She could hear a hollow sound coming from outside, clarifying that there was a long hallway past the door. There were footsteps, but they sounded too distant to be coming from right outside. No sounds of breathing, or a heartbeat. Lauren had been concentrating so much that, when she snapped out of her reverie, only then did she hear Ethan's incessant questioning.

She shushed him cuttingly, and then said, "None of them are outside right now. I suppose we could take a chance… They said that no harm would come to us anyway."

"Okay. What do we do?"

"Your chair is not screwed to the floor. Pull against it enough and you'll get your hands in front of you. Then maybe you can help me get off my chair."

He frowned. "Pull against it… won't my chair fall over?"

"Yes."

"Will it hurt?"

"Yes." When he hesitated, she added, "You could always get your arms back over your head, of course."

His face brightened slightly and he did what she suggested, but only ended up hurting himself because his wrists were cuffed. Lauren knew she could have tried it before with the same results. Ethan looked at her with a pained expression, and she raised an eyebrow.

"Well, okay…" His lips were pulled down in a childish pout before he pulled forward. Again, his chair dragged across the floor, eliciting a screeching sound similar to nails on a blackboard. After a moment, he tried again; the chair didn't fall over and he only ended up closer to the one-sided window.

Lauren sighed. "Your feet," she said impatiently. "Keep them up but make sure they do not get twisted on the way down."

Fear flashed across his face, but without question, he brought his feet up until only the tips of his toes were touching the floor. He pulled on his chair again and it toppled over like stacked bricks, bringing him down as well.

Lauren should have noted that the chair was metal, but it was too late. The sound emitted from the fall was loud, and she cursed.

"Get up," she ordered. A low groan came from Ethan, who was lying on his side with the chair dangling lightly between his elbows.

"Hurry, boy." Lauren took a quick glance at the door. "They would have heard that."

He groaned again. "I didn't think it'd hurt _that_ much—"

" _Hurry_ ," she repeated peevishly. "Stand up. The chair should fall off by then." He did as she said, with the expected outcome. "Now bring your feet up and slip your hands below."

"How—"

"Jump."

He did so, but brought his hands down a little too late and barely got them past his heels. He stumbled slightly, but got the job done.

"Good," said Lauren, gesturing with her head over her shoulder. "Now get me out."

"I don't have the keys."

"Just _come here_." She heard two pairs of footsteps getting closer and closer. Ethan slowly approached her and she spread her palms, as wide as they could go. "Pull my hands over my head."

His fingers were just as cold as the cuffs when they wrapped around her forearm. She could almost hear the panic in his voice: "Won't that hurt you?"

"Just do it!"

His grip tightened around her arm, and she steeled her gut. To her surprise, he did it slowly, and with much more carefulness than she'd expected. Halfway through it, when only a hint of pain was appearing by her shoulder blade, he bent one of her elbows in a position that was not at all comfortable (but didn't hurt either), did the same with the other one, and glided them over by the side of her head.

The cuffs cut into her tender skin, but Lauren knew the sting would have been worse if Ethan had just brought her arms over her head in a singular screwdriver motion.

Getting up from her chair and stretching her limbs, she looked at him curiously. "Where did you learn how to do that?" she asked.

"My grandmother. She used to be a police officer."

"Why didn't you do that in the first place?"

Ethan scratched the side of his head, shifting awkwardly. "I wasn't sure it would work… It did hurt though, right?"

"Yes," she replied simply, already having opened the door an inch and peeking through it. "We have to escape now, while we have the chance."

"What about our weapons?"

"We get them when we find them."

"If we don't?"

"Then we leave them. Come!" She roughly dragged Ethan out the door by the sleeve of his shirt, only letting go when they were already rushing down the long passageways. "Tread lightly."

He grunted softly, an affirmative. They continued down the halls, turning random junctions and flattening themselves against the dark corners whenever an agent passed by. Lauren tried to keep them on the outskirts of the building.

The only sign she received that they were on the right track was a window or two, but she could never stare out of it for long, because there were hundreds of people milling about outside. And she was sure that they would be suspicious of two 'children' walking around with cuffed hands.

She got them down a flight of stairs, fairly certain that the exit was not dozens of floors up. Ethan was panting heavily and clutching the side of his stomach. Lauren looked him over but didn't stop moving.

"Breathe," she told him.

"Got it." He huffed, slowing down slightly. She grabbed his sleeve again and tugged—he stumbled, but did not fall. After a moment, he regained his footing and they were back on track.

A set of stairs. Two hiding spots taken. Two left turns, one right. A second set of stairs. _Three_ hiding spots taken. Lauren noticed that the more they travelled downwards, the more agents were passing them by. A sense of dread crept into her stomach as she figured they were going to get caught soon. Very soon.

It was another five minutes of fast-paced walking when she turned a corner and saw the familiar golden hair of Captain America.

She immediately pushed Ethan back around the corner. He nearly tripped over his own feet but she grabbed his waist and pinned him against the wall with her arms.

Heart beating rapidly, she hoped that their brief struggle hadn't made much noise. Thankfully, the Captain's speech did not falter from around the corner, and she allowed herself a soft sigh of relief.

But then she heard what they were talking about, and she tensed up again.

"—already there?" came Captain's familiar voice. "And they said there was nothing?"

"Just a hill," someone else said, "There was a forest too but nothing interesting."

"Did they investigate the hill?"

"Of course."

"And still nothing?"

There was a sigh. "Clint and Tasha did everything, Steve. There was nothing there. Nothing but storm clouds rumbling overhead." Lauren's stomach clenched.

"… Well, where are they now?"

"They said they'd be back in an hour or so. Barton wants to get a good look on those kids. Maybe he'll do some interrogating himself."

"They're kids, Phil. Fury won't issue an order to hurt them, will he?"

"I don't think so. But we have to get answers out of them if he's gonna allow for their release. Fury isn't one to wait…"

Lauren stopped listening, then, because a stream of light was branching into her vision from behind. She whirled around and found that Ethan's head was lit up like a lamp post, coated in a thick golden glow.

The light bounced off his hair and turned it to flame, but Lauren was more intent on staring at the lyre hovering above him. It was only an illusion, of course—couldn't be touched. But she could see it as easily as the sun. Ethan, however, was looking at her questioningly.

"What is it?" he whispered, slowly raising his head. "What—"

A loud yelp escaped him as soon as he saw the burning symbol floating above him. He tried to swat it away, and as his hand passed through, the emblem faded. Lauren's eyes flashed with uncontrolled fury at his racket, and she was about to snap when she noticed a man standing a few feet away, staring at them with wide eyes.

Lauren ran past Ethan and brought her foot up, kicking the agent's jaw as hard as she could. He fell to the floor with a resounding thud. She knelt down and wrapped her fingers around the gun in its holster, but before she could pull it out, something hard and cold touched the nape of her neck.

She froze.

"Let it go," a different man said. She did as she was told. "Get up." Again, she did as she was told, because she was fairly sure that it was the barrel of a gun being pressed against her head, and she wasn't too keen on dying just yet.

When she turned around, she found herself face to face with an aged man. There were wrinkles on his otherwise smooth face, and a thinning brown patch of hair on his head. He held a kind look in his eyes, but Lauren knew that it was some kind of façade; it always was.

"Hi," he said, smiling slightly. "I'm Agent Phil Coulson. How'd you escape?" Lauren clenched her jaw and glared down at the gun he was now pointing at her chest. "I have to say, I'm not very surprised. Captain Rogers here insisted that we not tie your legs down. Not one of your best moments, Captain."

'Rogers' stared unflinchingly at Lauren, saying, "You weren't lying when you said you'd get out, huh?"

She said nothing but continued glaring at Coulson's gun. She noticed that Rogers held Ethan by the arm, and the boy looked rather squeamish. She cursed Chiron inwardly for being so easy on him.

"We best get them back to their cells, _separately_ , before Fury finds out," said Coulson. "And this time, Captain, we'll tie them up properly."

Three burly men appeared from around the corner. Two of them grabbed Lauren's arms, and the other gripped Ethan, who rather looked like a stick compared to them.

It was impossible for Lauren to escape their grips, and soon enough she resided to glare at the farthest wall instead, wondering why Artemis hadn't sent help yet. Surely she had heard Lauren's prayer; Hunters were supposed to be blessed with stronger mental bonds to the goddess

Dazed and confused, she barely heard Ethan's question to her: "What happened?"

She pursed her lips, indifferent. "We have been captured again."

"I mean with the thing on my head!" he said loudly, causing his guard to give him a rough shake. He continued anyway, "What was that?"

"You were claimed, boy."

"Claimed?" Recognition flashed across his face. "By who?"

"Your father is Apollo," Lauren replied in a low voice, knowing that they were getting ever nearer to their cells, and he would be separated from her soon. He _did_ deserve to know who had finally claimed him, though it didn't make her happy to admit who did: "Apollo, the second Twin Archer, brother of Artemis, god of the sun, god of healing, god of music, god of poetry, god of archery, and god of reason and prophecy."

In her head, she added glumly, _Welcome to the family._

* * *

 **Review... please? :(**


	6. Chapter 5 - Allied - Part 1

Before her guards left, Lauren told them to feed Ethan. The both of them hadn't eaten since… She didn't even know what day it was.

To the best of her memory, they escaped from Camp Half-Blood Monday afternoon; they arrived in New York and were captured in the evening. How long had she been unconscious from their captors' smoke bombs? She was only sure of one thing, that it was already Tuesday.

Earlier, when she and Ethan were trying to look for the exit, she would glance out windows and find that the sky was a shade of purple. Not dark enough for it to be early in the evening, but not light enough for it to be early in the morning either. It was still in the middle of the night, then.

 _The boy hasn't eaten since yesterday…_ Lauren, for one, knew that it wasn't healthy. She may have been a demigod herself and was therefore still half-human, but she'd been blessed by Artemis. She could go for a whole day without so much as a piece of bread. For Ethan, though, she couldn't be sure.

Could he die from being declined food for a day, or was that fine?

Her wrists weren't cuffed anymore. Instead, they'd placed her in a different room and sat her on a very different chair. Iron fetters had been installed on the arms and legs of the chair. They were thicker and sturdier than any handcuff, and she found the only parts of her body that she could move were her neck, head, and hips, but it wasn't like any of those could help.

She tried moving her hips upward to be able to pull at least one of her legs out of the restraints, but it couldn't be done. Her feet were planted on metal grates that were attached to the chair as well, and it prevented her from touching the floor.

There was nothing left to do, really. She prayed fervently to Artemis. When it was clear that the goddess wasn't going to come, she asked her to make sure that they found Khione.

At the thought of _that_ snow goddess, Lauren cursed inwardly. She hadn't been able to ask Ethan about his most recent dream—because perhaps something had changed.

Lauren stared at herself in the one-way glass, trying to ignore the possibility of agents staring back at her from the outside. She did her best to memorize the details, for Hunters seldom ever were able to find waters as smooth as glass to look at themselves with. The last time she was able to look at herself had to be a year ago, when she'd been able to find a frozen pond.

Nothing had changed with her appearance, of course, which was a result of Artemis' blessing of immortality. Her eyes were the same deep brown, her skin the same tan, and her choppy, russet hair the same length it had always been—about an inch or so below her jaw.

She eyed the thin braid at the side of her face, which she always kept plaited because it was the only lock of hair that would fall to her face and block her eyes.

Thoughtful, she remembered the many people who had braided it over the years: Phoebe, Jill, Chloe, Thalia, Jean, Kali, Aria, even Artemis herself—four of whom were dead.

Sadness crept into her, like one of Dionysus' deadly grapevines, but she banished the emotion before it could deal too much damage. It was not the time to grieve. A new threat was dawning on them, someone who'd been strong enough to halt the Golden Fleece's magic.

Either the gods would rally to subdue Khione, or they wouldn't, and their children would be left to do their job once more. But the real question was: had Khione become powerful enough to issue yet another potential apocalypse?

* * *

Two hours passed. Lauren had reduced to staring at her feet in concentration as she, yet again, tried pulling her hands through the ends of her tubular restraints. But her knuckles couldn't fit, no matter what she did. The sweat on her hands did little to help slip them out of the fetters.

A soft grunt escaped her lips, not nearly loud enough to mask the footsteps that were getting closer.

Her ears perked up, and she stopped struggling the same moment the door opened. Three people stepped through, two of whom were already familiar—Captain America and Agent Coulson.

One was very much foreign: dark skin, trimmed beard, black coat over a black suit with the familiar eagle emblem on his right chest, and two cold eyes, one of which was covered by an eyepatch.

If Thalia was in her position, she would have jumped at the chance to retaliate and mock him, but Lauren wanted to be careful. She'd underestimated them before, she wasn't going to again. But he was still a _man_ , which, of course, made it all the more harder for her to stay patient.

The stranger approached her, and she straightened in her seat.

"Good morning. My name is Nicholas Fury." he said, almost arrogantly. "Let's get down to business. For someone as young as you, you've caused us a lot of trouble. But first thing's first." He stopped in front of her. "Mind telling me where you got that gun of yours?"

She wanted to roll her eyes, state that it wasn't a _gun_ , but that would defeat the entire purpose of her keeping quiet.

"It was a gift," she replied simply.

"From who?"

That, she didn't answer, only raised her chin higher in defiance. Fury didn't like that. The seemingly permanent scowl on his face deepened.

"Your mother?" he asked. "Father? Uncle? Sibling? Friend? Boyfriend?" Lauren's eyes grew steely. "Do you work for someone? Was it them who gave you the gun?"

Lauren sighed, feigning disappointment. "And I thought you were the best interrogator they had in here… My mistake, I suppose."

A shadow crossed his face, though Zeus had looked far more frightening on several occasions.

"If you're not scared of me yet, you should be," Fury said. "Why do you have the boy with you? Is he someone important? Is he carrying a weapon of some sort?"

She looked past him and at Captain Rogers, who was shoulder to shoulder with Coulson; the both of them were silent. She raised an eyebrow. "Has he not told you what I have told him?"

"Orders?" said Fury. "So you are working for someone."

"If it makes you feel better, then yes, I am working for someone."

Rogers started shifting on his feet under her gaze. Coulson eyed him oddly, but Lauren just looked away and met Fury's eyes, which had softened up slightly—most likely because she had given them the glimmer of an answer.

Her eyebrows shot up innocently. "Are you going to ask me who I am working for as well, now?"

"Are you going to answer?" Fury retorted.

"No."

"Should we bring the boy in here again so you _will_ start cooperating?"

"It would not help." She nodded at Rogers without looking at him. "I granted him one question before, and only one, and he's wasted it. You hold no more leverage against me."

"We'll kill the kid," said Fury.

The corners of Lauren's lips twitched up in a small smile. She said, "Funny."

"We _will_ do it."

" _Very_ funny."

Suddenly Fury slammed his hands down on her armrests, jarring her and the chair slightly. The fire in his eyes looked false, and therefore Lauren was not scared. But she found no pleasure in the current position she was in, with the man glaring down so close to her face she could bite his nose.

He growled, saying, "Say that again."

"Back away, _now_ ," said Lauren, eyes glazing over in rage. "Or I will bite your ear off."

He seemed to consider the idea for a moment, and then he just smiled. "Is that a challenge?"

A snarl escaped her throat and her head shot forward. Baring her teeth, she snapped for his right ear, the nearer one. She felt the tip of one of her teeth graze skin before it was gone.

Slumping back against her chair, she released a frustrated huff as Fury paced away from her calmly. He didn't seem to have felt or noticed her near-success on the tip of his ear, which was slightly red. Lauren wished that her legs were freed so she could have kicked him where it hurt _most_ instead of just a nip on the ear.

She allowed herself little satisfaction, watching him come to stand by Coulson and Rogers. The latter looked quite fazed, but he stayed on his spot by the door with his hands clasped in front of him.

Fury opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a rapid knocking on the door.

The smug look on his face was replaced by exasperation. He whirled around and opened the door. Lauren was yet to see who was behind it when he snapped, "What is it?" She found it both odd and ironic that they couldn't have used the earpieces they were all so fond of.

"She has a visitor," a woman's voice replied. Romanoff.

"The boy?" Fury inquired crossly.

Someone who was _not_ Agent Romanoff cleared his throat, and then said, "It's, uh… Point Break."

Lauren realized that voice as well. She didn't even need to crane her neck before Fury stepped aside, first revealing the redheaded Romanoff, and then her apparent partner, whom Lauren had crossed paths with in New York: Clint Barton.

He wore the same clothes he had during their previous encounter, had the same bow and quiver of arrows slipped across his shoulders, and the same apathetic face. Lauren warily regarded him, getting the feeling that any second he was going to nock an arrow and shoot her down. Like what Orion would do.

She had to keep reminding herself that _this was not Orion_. He didn't have mechanical eyes. He wasn't twenty-feet tall. He wasn't extremely homicidal… unless he needed to be, Lauren supposed.

The male agent met her gaze, and held it for a moment. Then, another man stepped up from behind him, blocking him from view.

This one wasn't from S.H.I.E.L.D. Lauren could see that just by his clothing. He wore a gray cloak that reached just below his hips. He wore trousers and boots, which didn't seem to be made from any material Lauren had ever seen before.

Beneath his cloak, she discerned some kind of armor on him, but she couldn't be sure. His hair travelled to his shoulders in dirty blonde locks, framing striking blue eyes.

"Why do you have her bound?" he demanded, and his voice was almost as deep as Zeus'. He glided past the rest of the agents in a single stride.

"She tried to escape, knocked out one of our agents," said Coulson, eyeing Lauren blankly. "Nearly gave him a concussion too—"

"That is because she is a warrior," the new arrival said, "Blessed by Artemis herself. She will not yield to men."

The room lapsed into a tense silence. Lauren looked at the stranger with furrowed eyebrows, trying to figure out who he was.

He wasn't a god, he wasn't a demigod… if he was either of those, he couldn't have been very famous. But the armor he had on him and the locks on his head sparked such familiarity in Lauren that she couldn't help but to wonder…

How did he know about Artemis?

Meanwhile, Fury swept out of the room, murmuring something to Agent Coulson as he passed: _"You sort this mess out, Coulson. Report back to me in two hours."_

Romanoff and Barton stepped into the room and closed the door behind them. Lauren suddenly felt very claustrophobic. Taking a sweeping glance around her, she found there were five people huddled inside the room now, and that wasn't including herself.

"Thor, what are you talking about?" Rogers spoke up.

Just like that, Lauren's mind became a jumbled mess.

 _Thor,_ she mused. _Norse mythology… god of thunder… son of Odin… Aesir…_

Long ago, she'd already come to accept that there were many other civilizations in the universe besides the Greeks. Only three years ago had she realized that the Roman aspects of the gods were active as well. And she might have heard the goddess Artemis muttering something about Egyptian gods causing havoc someplace else.

She struggled to find words, slightly distracted by Thor's voice resounding in her ears as he continued explaining to the others exactly _what_ she was.

"Who are you?" she was finally able to say. It might have been a stupid question considering she'd already been thinking it through in her head, but she needed some kind of clarification—any kind.

The apparent 'god of thunder' looked down at her with equally soft and challenging eyes. "I am Thor," he said, "Of Asgard, blood-son to Odin and Jord, and I am he who wields the hammer Mjolnir."

"You forgot something," Coulson spoke up from behind him.

Thor glanced over his shoulder to look at the agent in confusion, before realizing what he'd apparently forgotten. "I am also the god of thunder," he added lamely.

"Right…" Lauren narrowed her eyes. "How do you know what I am?"

"Heimdall has been watching your kind from Asgard for hundreds of years," Thor stated. "We knew about Kronos, and Gaea's rising before it even began."

Once she was able to comprehend the meaning behind his words, anger coursed through her. "And you did _nothing_ to stop it?" she snapped.

A seemingly sympathetic frown appeared on his face. "It was not in our place to intervene," he said. "There is a difference in our cultures, demigod. Your worshippers and ours are more diverse than you can imagine. And as you should know, an unfaithful mortal worshipper is almost always punished severely."

Yes, Lauren knew that. She knew more than anyone.

Taking a moment to calm down, she gave her restraints a good shake. "Do you mind letting me go so we can talk about our little dilemma _properly_?"

Thor nodded in agreement and made a move to just tear the manacles off, but Coulson cleared his throat. Lauren turned to find him holding up a key in two of his fingers.

Coulson released her from the fetters and she sprung to her feet, inwardly groaning uncomfortably as the blood rushed back to her legs. She met the people's eyes—Barton's for only a millisecond). When she looked at Coulson, he was smiling.

"You're welcome," he said.

Lauren considered him guardedly. "Next, you are going to free the boy," she stated. "And I want my weapons back."

"Done."

She regarded the rest of the people in the room—except for Thor—with narrowed eyes. "I warned you to just release me, and I was not lying when I said that it was for your own safety," she said. "Now you've gotten yourselves in the middle of everything. Obviously, you already know about the Norse." She gestured uninterestedly to Thor. "But there is much that you are ignorant about, and I tell you, for mortals to know what we know is dangerous. So you will forgive me if you don't get out of this alive."

Coulson's smile widened, and Agent Romanoff scoffed lightly.

"Relax, kid," she said. "I'm sure we've gone through worse."

"Do not be so sure, then," Lauren retorted. "Thor, explain to them everything they need to know. Do not speak of plans of action until I am with you." (Vaguely, she heard Barton murmur to Coulson: "Why does she get to order him around?")

Thor hesitated. "Where will you be?"

"Assisting in my ward's release," she said, eyeing the ring of keys looped in Coulson's belt. "I am yet to trust the men in this place."

She met Coulson's eyes boldly but he, still with the irritating crinkle by his eyes, just turned around and walked out of the room.

Lauren followed him wordlessly down the hall, and was only slightly surprised when he stopped only a few doors down. He inserted the key, confusing her because she knew that the keys were supposed to be for manacles. And then Ethan was in her sights, sitting cross-legged in the corner glumly. When he saw Lauren, though, his face brightened. She couldn't help but to notice the red sauce on the corners of his lips.

"They've fed you?" she asked, to which he bobbed his head. "Good."

Coulson turned around and walked back outside; Lauren waited for the boy to scramble to his feet before trailing after the agent.

"Are we leaving?" Ethan said, walking beside her with rushed steps.

"No."

"Are they gonna let you eat?"

"No."

He was silent for a moment, and then, "… Are they gonna kill us or something?"

She almost smiled. "No."

They turned a sharp corner.

The boy released a sigh of relief. "Well, where are we going?"

"I'm taking you to the briefing room," Agent Coulson replied, glancing over his shoulder at them for a second. "Everyone else is waiting for us there."

Lauren nodded briskly but said nothing more. She still didn't trust them. Despite the fact that they were acquainted with Thor, the Nordic god of thunder wasn't exactly very bright (from what she'd heard). She looked to the side quickly and met a female agent's wide-eyed gaze. She rolled her eyes in exasperation, and then remembered something.

"Where are our weapons?" she demanded, stopping dead in her tracks.

Coulson halted as well, but his shoulders shook, as though he was chuckling. He brought his hand to his ear and pressed down; she heard him murmur something before turning around, a small smile on his face.

"I've asked someone to bring them to the briefing room," he said. "You can retrieve them there and check for any damages during the talk, but I assure you, there are none."

She stared at him for a long moment before jutting her chin. He continued leading them down the hall, with the two demigods trailing behind him.

"Did they tie you up?" Ethan questioned.

 _In a sense._ "Yes."

"They didn't tie _me_ up," he continued. "Isn't that weird?"

"No."

"Why not?"

She gave him a side-glance. "Because they think that you are not dangerous, and that I am."

She couldn't tell if Coulson had heard, considering his back was to them. Either his hearing wasn't very good, or he just pretended not to hear. Either way, Lauren was positive that that was the reason they'd restrained her and not Ethan.

Ethan couldn't even swing his sword right.

Coulson finally stopped beside a black door in the middle of an intersection. He turned the knob, pulled the door open, and waved his hand in a _ladies first_ gesture. Lauren glared daggers at him for moment, and then stepped inside.

The first thing she noticed was Ethan's Celestial bronze sword, laying on the surface of a smooth, black long table. Beside it were her bow and her quiver of silver arrows.

Lauren rushed forward and handed the sword to Ethan, taking her weapons for herself. She relished the feeling of her bow back between her fingers. Slowly, she felt its magic crawl into her veins, rejuvenating her spirit. She slipped the shining quiver over her shoulder, followed by the bow, and only then did she raise her head and assess the rest of the company inside the dimly lit room.

Six people, in total, sat around the marble table: Tony Stark, leaning back in his chair with his feet propped up on the glistening surface; Captain Steve Rogers, who sat straight in his chair with his hands clasped in front of him; Bruce Banner, holding a colorful cube in his free hand; Agents Romanoff and Clint Barton, looking very professional with their collected expressions and steady eyes.

The thunder god Thor sat at the head of the table, speaking in a loud voice, as it seemed he still hadn't finished explaining the details of the demigod world.

Wordlessly, Lauren took her spot by the side of the room, leaning against the wall with crossed arms as she waited for him to finish. Ethan came to stand by her, looking quite nervous about everything.

It took several long minutes for Thor to conclude his lecture, primarily because Stark wouldn't stop asking questions.

When silence reigned once more, Lauren straightened up and raised an eyebrow at Thor. "Finished?"

He bowed his head. "My apologies, Lady Hunter. It was very difficult to explain things to the Man of Iron. He seemed quite taken with your culture."

"Oh come on!" said billionaire exasperated. "You can't seriously tell me I was the only one who got confused by all that _Western civilization_ crap. I've been to the Empire State, even tried to buy it once, and let me tell you, there is no 600th floor there."

"Tony," Thor started. "You forget what I told you about the Mist. There is magic placed in the elevators, by the gods."

Stark waved at him indifferently. "Yeah yeah, 'letting mortals see what is only safe for their eyes' and whatever. I remember."

"That must have been why we didn't see anything back at the Sound," Barton muttered to Romanoff. "So weird."

Lauren's eye twitched in impatience. Everything was quite similar to the counselor meetings that she could still remember, during her first weeks under Chiron.

She supposed she should have expected nothing more from the ever so infamous Avengers.


	7. Chapter 6 - Allied - Part 2

Lauren stepped away from the wall and straightened up to her full height, very subtly demanding the attention of everyone in the room.

"Alright, before anything else," she said. "What did you see at the Sound?"

"Nothing," Barton replied. "Just a bunch of hills and trees; a beach. But we were supposed to see something much more… massive, weren't we?"

Lauren nodded. "Camp Half-Blood is located there. It is a safe haven for demigods, like me and Ethan. The magical borders around the camp act as Mist, shielding it from the eyes of mortals." From the corner of her eye, she saw Stark gesturing for Ethan to come over. "There were dark storm clouds, weren't there?"

Barton narrowed his eyes. "How did you know that?"

"Never you mind," said Lauren. "It was a good thing you did not get close enough for them to attack you."

Captain Rogers leaned forward in his seat, holding up his finger. "Wait… the storm clouds?"

"They were actually _anemoi thuellai_. _Venti_ ," Lauren explained. "Storm spirits. They are monsters, creatures of chaos that were supposed to be locked away. For some reason, they managed to escape…" She met Stark's and Banner's eyes for a fraction of a moment. "The day you found us in the woods, we had to fly from camp because the borders broke down and alerted every nearby monster. On the way to New York, we were attacked by _venti_ and I was injured."

"Why'd you bring the kid anyway?" Agent Barton asked.

She opened her mouth to answer, but shut it again when Rogers answered for her: "Orders," he said, and she glared at him.

"Yes," she muttered. "I suppose there is no point in keeping the truth from you, since you're all so suicidal." A light chuckle escaped Bruce Banner. "My mistress, the goddess Artemis, left me and the other Hunters at Camp Half-Blood so she could return to Olympus and ask Zeus if he knew anything about what happened with the Fleece."

"The Fleece?" Banner interrupted. "As in, the _Golden_ Fleece? From the myths?"

Lauren nodded. "It acts as an energy source to keep the borders up. But back to the point: Artemis left me orders to protect the boy Ethan at all costs."

"Why would she do that though?" Romanoff questioned. "From what I understand, your group—the Hunters—don't like boys very much. Why would she order you to keep him safe?"

"She believes that his dreams hold information," Lauren replied, "Information that we need to defeat the enemy."

"His _dreams_? Stark scoffed, staring after Ethan, who was just walking away from a fist-bump with the millionaire. "What, did he dream about how to kill Justin Bieber or something?"

Lauren frowned. "No, he has been dreaming about Orion. Specifically, how he died."

"And who's Orion again?" said Barton.

 _Your doppelganger,_ she almost said. "A giant son of Gaea. We fought a war two years ago, the one Thor mentioned about the Earth Mother's rising. Orion took part in it and killed more than half of the Hunters. But a Roman demigod was able to put him down with the help of Hera and Bellona."

"Who's Bellona—?"

"Don't ask."

Banner dropped his hand and ducked his head. "Okay then…"

Lauren wasn't looking at him, though. She was engaged in a staring contest with Agent Barton; he was eyeing her with unabashed interest.

If he was as smart as she'd perceived him to be, he'd already realized the gravity of his situation, and understood why Lauren had wanted to kill him the first time they met: he was the monster who slaughtered her sisters-in-arms and helped in the near-destruction of the world… or at least, he was the man _identical_ to that person. Lauren still found the resemblance unsettling, yet she made sure to keep her expression blank.

"I think we should deal with the immediate danger first," she continued slowly, "About the conspiracy with the Fleece. We think that a minor goddess was behind it."

Banner meekly raised his hand again. "Aren't the gods supposed to be beneath Papa God?" Lauren raised an eyebrow, and he hastily explained, "Zeus, I mean. He's above all of them, right? Can't he just tell this goddess off or zap her with lightning or something?"

"Your perception of the _Olympian_ gods relate to the God you know—the one the Christians believe in, with the capital G. We demigods have learned to believe that _that_ God doesn't even exist anymore."

Captain Rogers flinched, quite visibly. She ignored the motion.

"Olympian gods are not omnipresent. They cannot see everything that is happening on Earth while they are elsehwere. At best, when someone prays to them, they will hear and _maybe_ answer the prayer. Sometimes, they even come down, but most of the time it's just to—"

"Yeah, no, we got that part," Stark interrupted, waving his hands wildly. "To get kinky with some chick or hunk or whatever."

Struggling to keep her temper in check, she merely nodded her head. "From what I have been told, the gods have left their posts on Olympus and are searching for the enemy as we speak."

"What's she look like?" Romanoff asked. "I could get Fury to search the databases, put up a few cameras here and there. Is she in New York?"

"Probably not," Lauren answered, and then thought for a moment. "Lush black hair, brown eyes—I remember her wearing a snow-white silk dress, as pale as her skin."

A low whistle escaped Tony Stark's lips. Upon seeing the impious look on his face, Lauren narrowed her eyes in disgust. Beside her, she vaguely noticed Ethan freeze on his spot.

Romanoff continued, "And her name?"

"Khione."

Instantly, Thor perked up in his seat. His knees hit the underside of the table, raising it a few inches off the ground before it went back down again.

"The snow goddess?" he said. Lauren nodded, and the thunder god lowered his head, a look of contemplation clear on his face. "That would make sense," she heard him mutter to himself.

Beside her, Ethan frowned. "What'd make sense?"

At the sound of the boy's voice—which anyone had barely heard throughout the day—Thor raised his head again and met Lauren's eyes.

"Heimdall," he started. "A few nights ago, he reported to Odin about trouble brewing in Jotunheim. Something about the Frost Giants roaming around in the middle of the day."

"And they don't normally do that?" Rogers asked.

"Not usually," said Thor. "Walking directly under the sun is like rubbing salt on a wound, to them. They don't come out unless they want to, and they _never_ want to."

Lauren shrugged. "It _might_ be Khione… but I don't understand how she would have been able to get there. She's a _Greek_ goddess, not Norse…"

"Well, it was none of your Olympians," said Thor. "The All-Father is positive that none of them could have travelled to Jotunheim in their state."

Lauren's stomach churned. "What does that mean?"

"Olympus has been closed off." She literally felt all the blood leave her face. Thor's eyebrows scrunched together as he looked at her. "You did not know?"

She shook her head once, glancing skyward, with a burning question in her head. _That explains why you wouldn't answer my prayers, Lady Artemis, and why I couldn't come up…_ But why was Olympus closed off?

"That rules out coming to them for help, then," she murmured. But the look on Thor's face suggested more than just confusion—there was dread—and she was forced herself to return her attention to him.

Barton sighed: "Why do I get the feeling there's something worse than that?"

Thor looked to Lauren. In a grim voice, he said, "We sensed something stirring in the Pit."

Her heart dropped.

"Tartarus?" she was able to say in a quiet voice.

"Yes."

"That huge-ass abyss everyone keeps talking about?" Stark indignantly interjected. Lauren was too deep in thought to actually get angry; she bobbed her head in affirmation. "Oh no, don't tell me Hitler's coming back from there. I seriously don't want to deal with _another_ heartless dictator—"

"It is not a joke," Lauren finally snapped. "Every monster that is killed ends up there, along with everything and anything that has the unfortunate fate of finding—and falling into—the entrance."

"Where's the entrance?" Bruce inquired.

Lauren tilted her head. "Multiple places, but there are only two that I know of. There is one in the Underworld, which is the main entrance, and then one underneath Rome." She noticed everyone else's eyes widen, including Coulson and Ethan. "That is a whole other story for a different time. No one, not even the gods, wants to go down there. Thor, you said you… _sensed_ something stirring. What did it feel like?"

"Mostly rage," said Thor, "Vengeful, angry… lustful."

Stark held his hand up in a halting gesture. "Dude, there's a _kid_ here—"

"He means it's angry," Romanoff explained coolly. "And it wants something."

Her statement left the room in silence, with Lauren tapping her chin as she thought fervently. _Orion is down there,_ she thought. _And he must be angry…_ But what could he want? Revenge?On Reyna, the girl who had the audacity to defeat him? Or was it still on the gods, on Artemis?

"It has to be Orion," Lauren concluded. _But oh gods, what if he is already out? And who could have gotten him out?_ A disturbing thought struck her, and a lump appeared in her throat. _Had Reyna even killed him in the first place?_

"Alright, so we have two guys to worry about now," Banner stated softly. "A goddess and a giant son of Gaea." He shrugged. "How do we kill 'em?"

"You cannot kill a goddess," she said, unamused by his nonchalance. "Not permanently, at least. You scatter their essence so much that they won't be able to form a consciousness or a body. As for Orion, we need help from an Olympian in order to send him back to Tartarus."

Stark groaned. "You don't mean an Olympian athlete, do you?"

The rest of the Avengers promptly ignored him.

"But Olympus is closed off," Banner stated.

Captain Rogers nodded. "Which means we should probably deal with Khione first before beating this Orion guy. The question is: how are we going to catch her?"

"I have to make a call," Lauren said, already turning away from the scene. From the corner of her eye, she saw Ethan scramble to his feet to trail after her.

"Hey wait," Stark called after her. "I have a phone right here!"

"Demigods aren't allowed to use phones of any kind," she said, annoyance lacing her voice. "Using them for communication is like shooting up a flare that only monsters can see. I have to make an Iris message to Camp Half-Blood, just to tell them about the threat we are about to face."

Banner scratched his head. "I think you forgot to mention exactly _how_ to make so-called 'Iris messages'…"

"Just take me to a bathroom with heaters in the faucets," Lauren hastily replied.

"Why don't you just go over there and tell them face to face? It'd be more convenient."

Lauren was just about to launch another snippy retort when Ethan gave her elbow a light prod. She whirled on him, eyes blazing as her patience finally snapped. She was barely able to keep from stabbing him with an arrow; she saw that his eyes were earnest.

"We're all out of drachmas, remember?" he muttered, pulling his pockets inside out and showing that, indeed, they were empty. Lauren cursed silently and faced the long table again.

"We will have to talk with them personally, then," she said.

Her thoughts raced by at a rapid pace: what mode of transportation they would use, how they would be able to keep the monsters away, how they would keep Khione from flinging hail at them again, how Artemis would react to Lauren's disobedience… The goddess's words to her from their Iris message rang in her head like church bells.

She almost didn't notice when Agent Phil Coulson stepped away from his spot by the corner to stand in front of her, with his hands clasped in front of him.

"You're not going anywhere," he said.

Hoping to frighten him, she reached for an arrow, knowing that she couldn't really hurt him; there was some Celestial bronze mixed within the silver, making it impossible for the tip to cut through human flesh.

"You think you can stop me?" she said.

Behind Coulson, the Avengers tautened on their seats.

"I think I have six people behind me as back-up," Coulson retorted, "And you have a kid."

Lauren raised a cynical eyebrow. "Are you going to hurt me then?" she challenged. "Or are you going to use the sleeping gas again, like cowards?" When he didn't respond immediately, she continued, "Do you want to stop Khione and Orion or not?"

"We do," said Coulson. "But Director Fury will want to know what's going on. Before you can leave, you will have to wait for his permission."

"His _permission_?" She laughed humorlessly, shaking her head. "You men always think you are all so superior, don't you? Think you can stop someone from doing what she wants just because she's a _girl_. To put it quite bluntly, I could have killed every single one of you here without batting an eyelash—"

"And why didn't you?"

"Because I have respect for Artemis, and for myself," Lauren sharply retorted. "She would not want me to waste arrows on such petty, foolish mortal _men_ , not unless she'd given the order herself, which, I assure you, she could. If she was feeling up to it."

A glint appeared in his eye. "Exactly," he said. "You have your orders, and I have mine. So you of all people should know what happens when orders are contradicted, no?"

Lauren bristled slightly. The snarl in her throat died down, and she dropped her arm.

"You have five minutes," she muttered angrily. "If you are not back here by then with your Director's _permission_ , I will leave—and if I have to go through every single one of your agents to do so, just make sure you have an adequate hospital wing."

Coulson held her gaze steadily for a long moment before jutting his chin. "Five minutes," he confirmed.

He clicked his heels together, turned around, opened the door, walked out, and closed it behind him. Lauren glared after him, practically huffing in fury. She heard an almost-inaudible sigh come from beside her; turning her head, she found Ethan's face scrunched up in a tight scowl, as if he was upset as well.

And then Thor's booming laughter was resonating all around the room. Lauren whirled around, both irritated and confused. A wide grin brightened up the thunder god's face, but it seemed that everyone else had no idea why he was so giddy.

He pointed a finger at Lauren, still beaming. "Sif would like you."

Lauren didn't know who that was. Then, again, she noticed Ethan's frowning. She raised her head and met the eyes of everyone in the room—a challenge. When none of them said anything (Stark would have, but Banner elbowed his ribs and effectively silenced him), she pulled Ethan by his sleeve to the corner by the door.

He said nothing, only looked up at her questioningly.

"When you were still unconscious and we were still sharing the same room together," she murmured, "Before you woke up and pointed out the one-way glass"—he nodded in understanding—"you were dreaming again, weren't you?"

He hesitated for a moment. "Yeah."

"Was there anything different about it in particular? The weather, the chase, the sounds—anything?"

Ethan shook his head. "Nothing that I can remember."

"Come on, boy, _think_ ," Lauren urged. "Was the scorpion still chasing you?" He nodded. "Was it still snowing?" He nodded. "Did you waste your last arrow?" He nodded. _There had to be something…_ "The howl, you still heard it?"

"Yeah—oh, wait, wait, hang on…" He then lowered his head and started hitting his temple with the flat of his palm. "Yeah," he said. "There was something else… In the dream, it didn't end before the monster killed me."

"You are certain?"

"Pretty certain," he grumbled, shutting his eyes tight. "I went to this seriously blue place. _Literally_ , there was snow everywhere; I remember it being so cold… And there weren't clouds or anything like that either. I looked up and immediately all I saw were stars—and I think maybe even one or two planets."

 _Jotunheim,_ Lauren guessed. "Was there anyone else there?"

He frowned. "The statues… they were moving, I think."

"Nothing more—?"

"There was this one guy, standing by a throne of ice or something," said the boy. "I couldn't see his face… but a girl was beside him. She was really pretty and stuff, I guess… I think it might have been Khi— _that_ snow goddess."

Lauren waited to tell him that he could say her name now, considering the amount of times they had already done so.

"No doubt she is a greater threat not than she was before," she said, facing the wall so none of the Avengers could hear her. "A Greek goddess in Jotunheim, with a man with her… perhaps he is a consort of some king."

"Maybe. But why were they there though?"

"Dreams do not always have a literal meaning," she explained quietly. "But more often than not, their true meanings tend to come to life…"

"Okay," he said, puffing his cheeks. "Olympus is closed off, an evil snow goddess and a son of Gaea are teaming up with some stranger dude and the Frost Giant guys from Norse mythology. And in the good guy corner, we have me—a _kid_ —, five totally badass but _mortal_ humans, a thunder god, and a Hunter of Artemis… this'll be fun."

Before she could issue a reply, the door suddenly opened and nearly grazed her shoulder.

Nicholas Fury stepped into the room, his eyes as cold as they were half an hour ago. Behind him was Agent Coulson, holding the same satisfied look on his face.

Fury turned his head and looked at Lauren with his calculating gaze, which she returned with equal fire. Without smiling, he said, "Permission granted."

* * *

He did not, however, grant her permission to travel there alone. She protested immediately, but knew anyway that it was lucky they were allowing her to leave at all.

Nevertheless, she was very unhappy with the idea of flying (or driving) to Camp with members of the Avengers in tow. It would cause such a ruckus, knowing that even the year-rounders there had heard of them, though she found slight comfort in the fact that only two people were coming with her.

 _Very_ slight comfort, because the people who were going with her were Tony Stark and Clint Barton. From the smug look on Fury's face, Lauren discerned that he had chosen them just to spite her. She nearly lost her temper, then, but knew that they needed to get to Camp as fast as possible.

But it was for a totally different reason that, when Ethan walked away with Bruce Banner on his way to the bathroom, she did not wait for them to return.

Stark had already stated that they would be taking one of his faster private jets. "With heaters _on the outside_ , so we don't have to worry about freezing up and falling out of the sky," he had added.

Lauren was headed for the staircase at the end of the hall, because if she knew about bratty rich men, she knew that his jet was already waiting for them—on the flight deck that was supposed to be on the roof, if not parked on a runway downstairs.

Someone tapped her shoulder. She turned around to find Clint Barton standing before her, one eyebrow raised.

"Leaving already?" he said.

Lauren opened her mouth to reply when Stark came jogging into the scene.

"Aren't we waiting for the kid?" he asked, looking from Lauren to the set of stairs behind her.

She turned around and replied in a monotone voice, "No."

She started climbing; after a few moments, Stark's and Barton's footsteps followed her.

"Why not?" one of them asked. Lauren didn't bother to wonder who.

"Because he will be safer here," she replied simply, "On a structure on the ground with more or less a thousand people in it. They will mask his scent… unless he uses a phone."

"Isn't this camp of yours supposed to be safe?"

"I cannot be sure anymore. And it is the trip that I am more worried about."

"You don't trust flying on Stark Industries?" Stark asked, and she could hear the feigned hurt in his voice.

"I do not."

"How about a car then?"

"Much more dangerous."

"A train?"

"Train tracks are known to be perilous."

" _A boat_?"

Lauren whirled around and glared at him with cold eyes. "We are _not_ taking the boy with us," she snapped.

Without waiting for a response, she turned back around and continued up the staircase, taking it two at a time. There came a loud call from below them, and what Lauren had previously assumed was a ceiling opened up like cellar doors, letting sunlight stream through the gaps.

"Isn't one Romanoff enough?" she heard Stark whine.

"Careful, Stark," Barton warned lowly. "She sounded pretty serious."

At least there was one sane person on board with her. She tried to ignore the fact that he was practically Orion in a human's body; to her surprise, it was becoming easier to do so the more she spent time around him. Then Stark began whistling a merry tune, and her shoulders slumped.

A gleaming grey jet came into view, with the words **STARK INDUSTRIES** painted by the wing, so large it was easy to read even with her dyslexia. Doing the calculations in her head, she guessed that they would arrive at Long Island in about forty minutes.

Forty minutes.

 _Gods help me._


	8. Chapter 7 - Arrival

The flight lasted twenty minutes and forty-three seconds. Lauren knew because she'd been counting ever since the departure. It helped her keep her patience in check.

She kept her head turned away and facing a window, where she watched the buildings pass below them, eventually giving way for trees and a single two-lane road. She wondered whether it was getting late, but one glance at Stark's watch and she knew that it was only two hours past noon.

As the paths and first-world structures became more and more familiar, the feeling of dread in her stomach only increased. Frost started appearing on the windows, only to be melted a few seconds later by a blast of hot air from the jet's heaters. She found little comfort in this, still thinking that the engine would somehow freeze over and they would crash.

Khione wouldn't want her plans ruined _again_ , would she?

A familiar creek came into view: shallow, bordering along the thickest of tree lines—the location where one team would be separated from the other during Chiron's occasional game of Capture the Flag. A few seconds later and she saw a large pile of boulders settled within a ring of trees.

"We're here," Lauren said. "Look for a place to land."

Stark threw her a thumbs-up and, with his other hand, pointed to Half-Blood Hill. "That looks a good place to drop—"

"No!" Lauren said. Peleus would surely be alerted of their presence, then, and she wasn't too sure whether the dragon would attack them—mortal or no. "Do you see a beach?"

"Yeah," said Stark. "A little bit over there to the left but—"

"Land there. Slowly."

"Got it."

Minutes later, they started losing altitude. Out the window was a perfect view of the sea, clear blue. Then, a hurricane of sand blocked the waters from her sight.

Lauren turned her attention to Agent Barton, who'd been polishing his arrows with a thin black towel. She regarded the stoic expression on his face.

"It would be best if you kept your weapons stowed away," she said.

He raised his head. "What if something attacks?"

"Metals wouldn't hurt them anyway. But I only meant to keep them on you and not bring them out unless absolutely necessary."

His eyes stayed on her, and she returned his stare, steely. After a while, he just said, "Fine," and then slipped the bow over his shoulder.

Satisfied, Lauren nodded and then did the same. By that time, the jet had landed and Stark was adjusting the settings.

"Open the hatch," said Lauren. A few seconds later, the sandy surface of the beach was revealed to her.

When she stepped onto the beach, it was warm, which meant that the Fleece was working. Behind her, the jet was melting off the remaining blotches of ice, as well as the snow that continued falling on it. A soft crunching sound came from her right, and she turned to find quite a surprise waiting for her.

The Seven of the Prophecy stood there, dressed like normal teenagers, but Lauren could feel the power radiating off each of them. Together, they were truly an intimidating presence, a force to be reckoned with.

Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase, standing shoulder to shoulder; Piper McLean and Jason Grace; Frank Zhang, garbed in simple attire with his Roman praetor badges on his chest; Hazel Levesque, with her curly hair tied into a loose bun and her curious, caramel eyes staring past Lauren and to the mortals behind her; Leo Valdez, with a gray tool belt strapped around his waist and the goddess Calypso standing beside him.

Lauren kept her surprise down to a minimum.

"Hello," she greeted simply. "Percy Jackson, Annabeth… Aren't you supposed to be in New Rome, studying?"

"We visit here twice a month," said Annabeth, frowning, and opening her mouth to say more but Lauren was quicker.

"And what about you, Frank Zhang and Hazel Levesque?" she said. "A Roman praetor and a centurion—I would guess you'd have more important things to do than visit here—"

"Chiron sent them an Iris message," Piper interrupted, "About what happened with the Fleece, and about everything else…" She hesitated. "You really think Khione's back?"

A shadow crossed Lauren's face. "Khione is not the only one I am worried about."

Percy stepped up. "Yeah, we heard about Orion too," he said. "Chiron mentioned something about some unclaimed kid from the Hermes cabin, and him having the same dreams as you… is that true?"

"Yes."

He frowned. "Well, where is he?"

"I could not bring him," she answered. "Too dangerous."

That was when she noticed Leo Valdez, who had peeled himself away from Calypso, slowly walking towards Barton and Stark with wide eyes.

"What are you doing?" Lauren snapped, slapping his arm—which was getting dangerously close to Stark's body.

Leo wasn't at all dazed by her outburst. He was practically jumping on the spot; the look of excitement was clear in his face.

"That's Tony Stark!" he yelled. "Tony _freaking_ Stark!"

"I know."

"The guy who made the Arc Reactor!"

("So _that's_ what he looks like," Annabeth muttered to Percy, starting to stare open-mouthed at the billionaire as well.)

"I don't know what that is," said Lauren. "But—"

"A member of _the Avengers_! Holy gods, I can't believe it—"

Calypso rushed towards him clamped her hand over his mouth, effectively shutting him up. "Leo?" she said, and he mumbled a muffled _yeah?_ into her hand. "Shut up."

Lauren glared at the male demigod for a long moment before turning her attention to Stark and Barton. They were staring at her weirdly, like she was some fish out of water. For some reason, this struck her the wrong way—that is, until the archer spoke.

"Lauren?" he said, and she raised an eyebrow. "Who are you talking to?"

The corners of her lips pulled down into a deep scowl. Behind her, she heard Jason Grace mutter something to the other demigods: "Oh yeah, the Fleece has _definitely_ gone out of whack." She nodded in agreement, knowing that if Stark and Barton couldn't see the Seven, then they shouldn't have been able to see her either.

She turned to face Hazel, saying, "This would be easier to explain if they could actually see you."

Hazel shifted on her feet uncertainly. Frank Zhang came to her aid, arguing, "But they're mortals, Lauren. They're not supposed to see all this. It could drive them crazy—"

"Dude," Leo interrupted. "They battled freaking _aliens_ in New York; they've met that thunder dude _Thor_. I think they can handle this."

"And their organization refuses to be left out," Lauren added bitterly. "No matter how hard I tried to persuade them, they would not let it go."

Calypso rolled her eyes. Though Frank remained sceptic, Hazel walked forward until she was standing directly in front of Stark.

"I haven't done this before," she stated. "But I guess it would be fairly easy…"

She unhurriedly brought her hand up, and then swept it over Stark's eyes without ever touching him. Even from where Lauren stood, she was able to see his pupils dilate. He blinked in rapid succession, and uttered a sound of surprise. His wide eyes were on Hazel.

Hazel stepped back, and Stark regarded the scene before him. Blinking.

"Hi there," he said, sounding breathless.

Leo waved enthusiastically at him. If Calypso wasn't there to hold him back, Lauren was fairly sure that he would have pounced on the inventor by then. Annabeth waved as well, but looked more surprised than thrilled.

Barton whipped his head around and narrowed his eyes at Stark.

"Tony," he said, already reaching for an arrow. "What is it?"

Lauren rolled her eyes and strode towards him, pushing his arm back down. "Here, Hazel," she said.

He glared at her and ripped his arm away, but Hazel was already there. She hastily waved her hand across his eyes before retreating back to Frank's side, probably afraid that the agent would shoot her.

Barton's pupils dilated; he blinked, opened his eyes again, and his jaw went taut.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered to himself, though Lauren might have been the only one to hear.

With an exasperated sigh, she stepped back and looked at the two fazed mortals. "We should go to the Big House for introductions, and a meeting with Chiron," she said, "Jason, Piper, lead the way."

* * *

Suffice it to say, Lauren was surprised at how many people were _not_ too curious about meeting the Avengers.

Half the Athena cabin and half the Hephaestus cabin came forward to gawk at Tony Stark from afar, while about a dozen of the Apollo kids observed Barton's bow and arrows. Lauren couldn't blame them; she was curious as to what their special abilities were as well.

As they passed by the Mess Hall, she noticed that probably the whole of the Aphrodite cabin was ogling the male-mortal archer, and she rolled her eyes. Jason and Piper led them past the Cabins, and Lauren was disappointed to find that her fellow Hunters were not in the Artemis cabin.

Instead, she found them dominating the Volleyball Court, playing amongst themselves while a bunch of Ares kids watched enviously from the sidelines. She spotted Jill, who nailed the ball with a solid spike.

A cheer erupted in their side of the court, and Lauren couldn't help but to smile. She whistled lightly and Jill turned her head, catching her eye. Lauren hadn't been expecting a smile, and she didn't get one. Slowly, the Hunters dispersed from the court and made their way towards Lauren, who waited patiently, already knowing what was running through their heads.

Lauren glanced over her shoulder and waved nonchalantly to Barton and Stark. "Go on ahead," she told them. "Explain everything to Chiron."

"Who's Chiron again?" Stark inquired distractedly, winking at one of the passing daughters of Athena.

"You'll see," Lauren muttered, too low for him to have heard. She wasn't going to grant him an answer with how vain he was being—and to a bunch of _children_ , no less.

Jill and the rest of the Hunters stopped in front of Lauren. Without staring for too long, she knew that they had all, in fact, heard of Artemis' order to her.

"Anything new?" she said in a clear voice.

"The Fleece malfunctioned again a couple of hours ago," replied Jill; the reluctance was clear in her voice. "But it's back up again now. Other than that, nothing… Didn't Artemis say you couldn't—?"

"I know what she said," Lauren interrupted curtly. "But if she was upset about my insubordination, I think she would have sent some kind of sign by now." Jill's frown deepened, but she nodded. "Anyway, you are familiar with the Asgardian Thor?" Again, Jill nodded. "He said that his father Odin mentioned Olympus being closed off."

Jill shook her head. "They wouldn't close it off just because of Khione… _and_ Orion, in this case. Zeus would never back down from a fight."

"Neither would Artemis," Lauren added. "So there may be a bigger purpose to their actions."

She was deep in thought when a different Hunter spoke up from behind Jill: "Maybe they're preparing for something." Lauren glanced over Jill's shoulder and found that Lilith, one of their new ones, had been the one who spoke. When she noticed Lauren's gaze on her, she lowered her head and mumbled a sheepish "Sorry."

Lauren softened her gaze. "Keep your chin up," she said. "It is possible, though it will be the first I've heard of it. If they have closed off Olympus because they are preparing for war, then that gives us cause to be even more careful."

"If I can ask," Jill piped up, "Who were those guys you brought here?"

"Representatives of a mortal group who do not know how to mind their own business."

A low murmur of disapproval rose from the group of Hunters; Lauren shared in their displeasure. Jill nodded, and she might have been smirking slightly if Lauren stared hard enough.

"Before we go in there, I will tell you all now _not to be alarmed_. Keep your knives sheathed, and your arrows in your quivers. The mortals are not dangerous. Neither of them."

She actually just meant Agent Barton, knowing that none of the Hunters would take kindly on the fact that he looked exactly like Orion.

Jill raised an eyebrow. "Care to elaborate on why that should be?"

"You will see. But I need a promise, from _all of you_. Do not engage, no matter how much you think that I'm wrong."

An air of confusion rose from the Hunters, very lightly laced with doubt. Nevertheless, they remained loyal and voiced their oaths.

Nodding, Lauren turned around and led them into the Big House, deeply hoping that none of them reacted too badly about Barton.

* * *

She was positive that the Big House's rec room had _never_ been so cramped before.

Chiron's ping pong table only had so much room to fit 15 demigods, and that wasn't including the two Romans and Annabeth.

The centaur sat at the head, as per usual. On either sides of the table were the fifteen head counselors of the different cabins: Jason for Zeus, Percy for Poseidon… temporarily, Miranda Gardiner for Demeter, Clarisse La Rue for Ares, a boy named Gabrielle Stewart for Athena—Annabeth stood beside him; Will Solace for Apollo, Lauren for Artemis, Leo for Hephaestus, Piper for Aphrodite, Connor and Travis Stoll for Hermes, Pollux for Dionysus, Butch for Iris, Clovis for Hypnos, and Lou Ellen for Hecate.

Hazel and Frank stood as representatives of New Rome.

The rest of the Hunters stood scattered around the table. They glared at Clint Barton, who stood beside Stark by the farthest corner in the room. None of the Hunters had resorted to attack—Lauren had made sure—but all of them, even Jill, were glaring murderously at the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

Often, Lauren would notice him shift beneath their gaze; otherwise, he opted to ignore them.

The introductions had finished a long time ago. Stark and Barton already explained who they were and why Lauren had brought them there. Leo was done fangirling over the man behind the Iron Man mask. Will Solace just ended his interrogation of Agent Barton considering his bow.

It was then that Chiron broke the silence.

"This is very exciting and all," he said, "Meeting two very famous mortal heroes. But this is also a first, since… well, mortals aren't supposed to be allowed into camp borders, to witness such… preternatural events."

Tony smirked. "Sorry, pal, but none of you look very preternatural to me."

"Careful," Clarisse said from across Lauren, starting to tap her fingertips on the table. "I might get the wrong impression that you _want_ to see something _preternatural_."

At that, Lauren caught Stark's eye and glared at him warningly, shaking her head. He cleared his throat. "After seeing that dragon of yours? I think I'm good," he said. "And not to mention those guys with the goat legs… that's just uncanny."

"Don't worry about it," Percy spoke up. "That's what I thought during my first time here too."

"I thought you liked Grover!" the Stoll brothers said simultaneously.

"I do! I'm just saying that it's normal to think it's weird at first." Percy met Stark's eye. "But you'll get used to it—"

"Can we get back to the problem at hand, please," Lauren said, and the room fell back into an uneasy silence. She liked the muteness better than the noise.

All eyes fell on her. She rose to her full height.

"Two immortal threats loom upon us," she began. "The gods are closed off from any kind of contact with their children. Just considering that they've dragged Dionysus back upstairs is hint enough that something big is happening. We can no longer depend on the Fleece for protection of the camp. We have only one choice now, and that is to hold ourselves fast and stay on high alert for more attacks."

"New Rome doesn't have much protection except for the Little Tiber, but even that doesn't keep the monsters away so much," Frank Zhang spoke up. "You know, the flying ones."

Lauren nodded. "That is why we have to settle for a plan of defense and offense, now, while everyone is here. Chiron, can you assure a 24/7 watch on the Fleece until this whole matter is resolved?"

The centaur stroked his beard and, after a few moments, bobbed his head. "I'll see to it immediately."

"Frank," said Lauren, "Relay everything that is discussed here to Reyna as soon as you get back to New Rome, alright?"

The Roman praetor dipped his head once. "Sure—and Percy," he added. "You'll be there too, right? To make sure I don't forget anything?"

"You're asking _him_ that and not _me_?" Annabeth argued, though she was smiling. "Honestly, Zhang, I thought you were smarter than that."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Percy piped up.

As expected, the room returned to its previous vigor. Lauren didn't bother to hush the campers this time. A dreadful feeling was coiling in the pit of her stomach.

She rose from her seat and muttered to Chiron, "See to it that the weapons supply is sufficient. Provide the Apollo campers with an ample quantity of arrows, and the Ares children will have sharpened their battle axes. Request from the Hephaestus cabin a stock of sleep inducing smoke bombs for the Hypnos kids. Sturdy and sharp Celestial Bronze swords for the rest."

The centaur raised his head and looked at her questioningly. "Are you trying to prep us for war, Lauren?"

"We cannot underestimate the enemy, Chiron. We are dealing with a god and a giant. We can only defeat a giant with the help of an Olympian, but they've barricaded themselves." (A statement of cowardice about the gods like that would have earned her _at least_ a rumble of thunder from Zeus, but there was nothing.) "If there is something coming, I am certain Artemis would have wanted me to be the level-headed one in this situation, and to tell you that you need to up your defenses."

She wanted to say more, but she stopped herself.

An uncharacteristic silence had fallen over the room, and her unease spiked.

Slowly, she raised her eyes and ran them across the people in the room with her—all of whom, including Stark and Barton, were staring at something over her head.

* * *

 **review... please?**


	9. Chapter 8 - Prophecy

**this is where shit starts getting serious HAHAHA**

* * *

Lauren had only ever talked to Rachel Dare once in her life. Then, all she saw was a young, quirky, redheaded girl with an admiration for Greek mythology… and Percy.

She'd never actually seen her being possessed by the Oracle of Delphi, with her eyes glowing green and her young face suddenly looking very, very old. But that was how she imagined it must have been like. And she was right.

It was a horror to behold. Lauren was one of the many who knew Rachel to be incredibly unserious and dismissive. The girl stood at the foot of the staircase, and the fact that she had walked all the way down the attic was bewildering enough. Normally, campers would go _to_ her, not the other way around.

Rachel opened her mouth. Green smoke poured out and down her lips, past her chin, looking almost like liquid. The smoke continued all the way to the floor, where it billowed around her feet. Chiron wheeled backwards, and Lauren took a step back.

The Oracle raised her head and started the prophecy.

" _The hunter's heel has touched the river of dreams,_

 _And found treaty in someone with familiar schemes._

 _A soul be tainted, a soul be lost._

 _In nine long nights, the bridge will be crossed._

 _The golden capital, golden it may be,_

 _can only be saved by the eldest for Three._

 _Their foe has lost one hand, the other may still carry_

 _an alliance that will kill and, in the end, bury."_

A grim sort of silence stayed in the room. It was something only the hearing of a prophecy could provide. Everybody thought Rachel was finished too, even Lauren. From the corner of her eye, she spotted her half-brother Will Solace starting to walk forward, carrying a stool.

He stopped when Rachel's gaze turned to Lauren.

" _A Hunter of Artemis and an archer of Earth_

 _shall go east to Lady Hestia's warmest hearth._

 _In order to see the bane of Gaea's son,_

 _they must first find trust where there is none."_

When the green in her eyes began to dissipate, Will Solace leapt from his place beside Chiron and looped his arm beneath Rachel's armpit. Just in time, too, as Rachel was on her way to the floor.

Will set the stool down and helped Rachel onto it. She groaned, mumbling a few incoherent words. There was a light scuffling behind Lauren. Five seconds later, Butch and Miranda Gardiner stepped up and handed Will a bowl of nectar. Lauren heard quiet murmurs from behind her, and looked over her shoulder to find Stark speaking quietly with Barton.

Eventually, Tony returned his attention to the scene at hand and said, "Okay, can someone please tell us what the hell just happened?"

"You just watched a prophecy being told, bro," Percy Jackson answered in a low tone. "Congratulations."

"And that… kid." Barton pointed at Rachel. "Is she gonna be okay?"

Rachel heard, apparently, for she raised her head and waved her hand at him. "I'll be fine," she said. "It's like this all the time."

"So you're always spewing out prophecies?" said Tony.

"Only when I should." And then, seeing the befuddled expressions on the human's faces, she hastily explained, "The Oracle of Delphi is basically Apollo's main prophecy speaker. Long story short, I'm the Oracle's vessel. Whatever he wants me to say, I'll say."

" _Apollo's_ Oracle…" Barton muttered. "But I thought Olympus was closed off. How can he tell his Oracle to speak a prophecy when he isn't supposed to be interacting with demigods in the first place?"

Annabeth stepped up, a thoughtful expression on her face. "The Oracle knows everything that's happened, and everything that will," she said. "She also knows when and who to tell the prophecies to. That is, unless the timeline is reset. Then everything becomes… well, complicated. More than usual."

Lauren was still staring at Rachel, watching her take slow, tiny sips of the nectar. Two prophecies had been spoken within the time span of five minutes. That wasn't normal. And it gave Lauren even more distress knowing that one of the prophecies was spoken _to_ her, something that almost never happened unless a demigod _asked_ for a Quest.

"Why do you look familiar?" Stark suddenly asked, staring seriously at Rachel.

"You probably know my dad," the girl replied in a casual tone. She held her hand out. "Hi. Rachel Dare, of Dare Enterprises. Nice to meet you."

Stark's eyebrows show up, but he shook her hand anyway. "Dare Enterprises…" he drawled. "Neat."

"Uh, guys?" said Jason. "I like meeting new friends as much as the next guy, but Rachel just spewed out a prophecy that sounded pretty important, so…"

The lines of the two given prophecies echoed in Lauren's head, but she asked anyway: "Did anyone write it down?"

Several seconds of silence, which Pollux from the Dionysus cabin ended.

"I sort of just jotted it down in my head," he said, almost sheepishly.

The corner of Lauren's lip twitched up in a smile. She looked at him in a slight new light (perhaps he was better than his father) before nodding her head. "Recite it, please."

Pollux cleared his throat, waited a moment, and began. And when he was finished, Leo whistled lowly, an impressed look on his face. "Dude, you got that _spot on_ —"

"Now the other one," Lauren interrupted.

"The one meant for you?" Pollux asked.

She felt her stomach twist in on itself. "Yes."

"A Hunter of Artemis and an archer of Earth shall go east to Lady Hestia's warmest hearth. But in order to find the bane—"

"See," Stark cut in.

Pollux's head snapped up. His eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. "What?"

"It's 'in order to _see_ the bane', not ' _find_ the bane'."

By that time, Lauren had decided it was best that she stood by her sisters-in-arms—for strength, mostly, to share and to receive. She knew that she wasn't the only one who needed the sense of familiarity that each of them could offer.

"But in order to see the bane of Gaea's son, they must first find trust where there is none," she recited to Jill. "'Go east to Lady Hestia's warmest hearth'… What does that mean?"

"The hearth symbolizes the home," Jill suggested, "So does Hestia. Maybe it means… go to Greece? The Olympians did come from there, so I assume that's where the 'warmest hearth' should be."

"Perhaps," said Lauren. "But where in Greece?"

She'd been staring at the floor, lost in thought, trying to recall all the famous places in Greece. Her eyes snapped up the moment she saw Chiron wheeling towards her.

He raised an eyebrow. "Share with the other counselors what your suspicions are, Lauren. Not both prophecies were meant only for you."

Behind her, Jill snarled lightly, and opened her mouth to say something; Lauren stopped her.

Truth be told, she was close to losing her temper as well—with the centaur, as well as the two humans standing by the corner. They simply didn't know when to shut their mouths and keep their noses out of other people's business.

She supposed that Chiron had a right to argue; he had a camp of very valuable demigods to protect. And Frank and Hazel too, for the Romans. But Stark and Barton… they were lucky Lauren had even allowed their jet past the borders.

She regarded them with cold eyes. "We think," she started through gritted teeth, "that _Hestia's warmest hearth_ could be pertaining to Greece, still not so sure where in Greece. Now, with seeing the bane of Gaea's son, Gaea's son is, quite obviously—"

"Orion," Jill finished for her.

Clarisse spoke up, sounding and looking rather disinterested as she cleaned her nails with a small pocketknife: "I thought that Roman chick already killed him."

"She did," Jason said. "At least, that's what she told us…"

Lauren sighed, her knee starting to bounce in impatience. "You were there when Artemis arrived here with us. She herself stated that there is a big chance that he is out of Tartarus. And with these new prophecies, it is safe for us to say that he _is_ back."

"Jeez," Stark muttered. "You'd think he's some kind of Lord Voldemort or something. Am I right?" He softly elbowed Clovis from the Hypnos cabin, who had been snoring away in his seat.

Clovis jumped up, startled, and mumbled the word "pancakes" before bringing his arm onto the table and laying his head there.

Lauren stared at him in irritation before switching her gaze to Stark.

"It is no joke," she muttered angrily. "Orion is stronger than any human _lord_ you might have met in your pathetic lifetime."

"Ohh, _burn_ ," Connor Stoll muttered to his brother, and they snickered away in their seats.

"Back to the point," Chiron said, putting his hand on the table to regain the attention of the counselors. "Two prophecies have been spoken today, but I'd like to pay more attention to the second one, the one spoken to Lauren… the Quest."

A hush fell over the room. In the midst of it, Lauren could make out Clovis' soft snoring.

"Down to business then," she stated, sighing inwardly. "I will debate with my Hunters considering which of us will go on this Quest with the… human."

She threw a hateful glance at Barton, who was still standing beside Stark with his arms crossed. He narrowed his eyes at her, and she did the same before meeting Chiron's gaze. The centaur had his eyebrows raised.

"The Oracle spoke to _you_ , Lauren," he said. "That much was clear to me, and to the rest of us. You will travel to Greece with Agent Barton, and in doing so, bring back Orion's bane."

She was quiet for a long moment, inwardly fuming. Beneath the table, her hands were balled into fists.

Chiron had the audacity to smile slightly. "I'm sure none of your Hunters would be eager take the trip anyway… Aren't you willing to take one for the team—as the kids say?"

Slowly, she turned her head a few inches to the side and gave the other Hunters a sideways glance. They shifted from foot to foot, clearly unsure of what to do, and anxious as to whether Lauren was going to condemn them the unfortunate task of having to travel with Orion's doppelganger.

But it was not the travelling they were dreading, Lauren knew; it was the final line of the prophecy.

 _You must first find trust where there is none._ The handmaidens of Artemis were _not_ supposed to 'find trust' in men. And yet, the Oracle had spoken the prophecy, and Apollo had surely given the word himself…

Lauren glanced up at the ceiling, wishing to look past it as she pondered on what could have been going on in Olympus.

With much reluctance, she said, "I will not deny Apollo his Quest. I accept."

"I guess I'm going too," said Barton. Lauren lowered her eyes and found his eyes flitting across the room, no doubt feeling awkward about the whole situation. "The prophecy said 'an archer of Earth', right? So I guess—"

"Aren't demigods permitted?" Jill interrupted, her eyes trained on Chiron.

Rachel quickly distinguished the glimmer of hope that had sparked within Lauren, saying, "Demigods, technically, aren't _of_ Earth. Only, like… half."

Gabrielle Stewart clapped his hands together once. "Alright, so we have a Quest. When are you leaving for Greece?"

"Tomorrow, most likely," Lauren replied. "Though I suppose I will have to explain to Ethan everything that has conspired here… but then, I could always have Stark do it for me—"

"You will leave two days from now," said Chiron.

Her eyes shot up both in surprise and irritation. Before she could argue, Piper Mclean spoke up for the first time in the meeting.

"Two days from now?" she said. "Shouldn't we be hurrying to find this bane thing so we can finally beat the crap out of Orion?"

Beside her, Jason mustered up an amused smile.

Chiron sighed. "I said you leave two days from now, but I would have said three, if it weren't for me knowing Lauren would have wholly denied that suggestion. And I said two days from now because: one, you will need to rest, further discuss with the rest of us exactly _what_ your plan is, and explain to Agent Barton everything else he needs to understand; and two, if I'm not mistaken, the first prophecy clearly stated that a bridge would be crossed after _nine_ nights."

"Nine nights," Annabeth interjected, "Which is even more reason for us to hurry up with the Quest. The sooner we find it, the sooner we can figure out how we're going to _use_ it."

"Nine nights is a long span of time, Annabeth," Chiron softly retorted. "I will not deny our human _allies_ a day of rest just because we think they have to keep up with our agendas—"

"But they do have to keep up," Jill sharply cut in. "They aren't even supposed to be here in the first place!"

"Ah, but if that's the case, then why did Apollo include this lad in his prophecy?" Chiron gestured to Barton with one hand, and Lauren could feel the resentment wafting out of Jill's firm frame.

A thought, quite suddenly, occurred to Lauren.

Once she realized that Chiron was no longer speaking, she asked, "What happens in nine nights?"

For several seconds, there was silence in the room. Connor and Travis Stoll started counting with their fingers, and restarted over and over again. Jason spoke in low tones with Piper; the same went for Percy and Annabeth. When they were finished, they only looked at Lauren with serious expressions on their faces.

It was Hazel who answered.

"That's the night of the winter solstice," she said. The rest of the room nodded in grim agreement.

Stark created a time-out gesture with his hands. "Hold up," he said. "So the 22nd of December, winter solstice… what's so important with that?"

"Twice a year, a meeting is held in Olympus," Annabeth explained. "Summer solstice is the first meeting, and winter solstice is the second. The winter solstice is the only time of the year when evil magic is at its strongest, and the only time when Hades is allowed into Olympus, because they need strength in numbers."

"Why isn't Hades allowed into Olympus any other time?"

Percy waved his hand at him and shook his head tiredly. "It's a long story."

"Yes," Piper agreed. "Not very important too. You wouldn't wanna hear it."

"But—"

"So in the winter solstice, a bridge will be crossed," Will Solace interrupted. "Right now, we don't know exactly _what_ bridge."

"It could be one of the bridges at Manhattan again," Clarisse suggested. "Like how Kronos tried to get into the city."

"No, that's too obvious, too easy…" Annabeth muttered, tapping her chin. "If the prophecy said it like _the_ bridge, I don't think it'd be just any channel leading into a city or an underground tunnel… I don't know what _bridge_ the prophecy could possibly mean…"

The council drew into an uncomfortable silence, probably because Annabeth had just said the words 'I don't know' in one of her sentences, and that was never a good sign. Even Lauren had to agree. Annabeth was one of the brightest minds in the room. That is, except for—

Tony Stark stepped forward and drew a suggestion. "Aren't we skipping ahead here, kids?" He spread his hands out like Chiron would to new campers. "Let's backtrack to the beginning of the prophecy before worrying about bridges and golden capitals."

"The hunter's heel has touched the river of dreams," Gabriel recited, "And found treaty in someone with familiar schemes."

"Hunter's heel," Jill repeated. "That could either be Orion, or one of us." She looked around at her fellow Hunters.

Barton stepped up. "Couldn't it be me?"

Lauren shook her head fiercely. "It would not make sense."

"Why?"

"The river of dreams does not permit mortals into its waters."

He raised an eyebrow. "Am I supposed to know what that means?"

"The _river of dreams_ is a term people sometimes use for the River Styx," Piper explained. "It's a river found only in the Underworld; the river the Greek hero Achilles bathed in, which was where he got—"

"The Curse of Achilles," Agent Barton finished. "I remember that. He was invincible except for that one spot in his foot, right? His heel?"

Piper nodded. "People call it the Achilles Heel, the only weakness."

"So if the prophecy says that 'the hunter's heel has touched the river of dreams'," Jason started, "it either means one of you guys"—he waved to the Hunters—"has gone swimming in the Styx, or Orion has."

"Zeus would never allow a demigod to accept both the Curse of Achilles _and_ the blessing of Artemis… They would become too powerful," Lauren explained. "But Orion… He was almost indestructable when he attacked the Amazons in San Juan. If he has indeed bathed in the River Styx, then I have little knowledge on exactly how we are going to defeat him."

The room was once again lulled into silence by the severity of the situation. Behind Lauren, the Hunters were deathly quiet. A handful of them no doubt recalled the dreadful day when they lost so many sisters to the son of Gaea.

"One step forward, two steps back," Jill muttered.

Frank Zhang, who had remained mostly quiet for the entirety of the conversation, chose to speak up a minute afterward: "The upside is now we know at least _one_ of the things we'll have to be dealing with." He pointed to Lauren and Barton separately. "And Orion isn't completely invincible. He still has an Achilles Heel. It's up to you two to find this _bane_ of his in Greece, bring it back, so we can whoop his butt."

Beside him, Hazel nodded optimistically.

"The Romans are all behind you guys," she said. "And Reyna's defeated Orion once. She can probably do it again."

" _With a little help from my friends,_ " Percy started singing. Annabeth playfully slapped his arm.

Lauren looked at each of them for a long moment before nodding her head. "Let's move on, then," she said. "Gabrielle, the third line, please?"

"Oh, so you get into first-name bases with the other guys, but not for us?" Stark complained. "Come on, I thought we were closer than that! I mean, you did almost _shoot_ me in the leg."

"And I will do so, right at this moment," she replied in a low voice, "If you do not shut… your… mouth." Lauren's gaze turned icy as she regarded the billionaire.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Chiron move from his spot and to Stark and Barton, where he lightly touched each of their arms.

"Walk with me," the centaur told them softly. "Outside."

Barton frowned. "But—"

"I wouldn't test a Hunter of Artemis if I were you, Agent Barton." Chiron opened the door and wheeled through it. "Come."

After another long moment, Stark seemed to think better of himself. He followed Chiron out the door, smirking slightly as he passed by the demigods. Barton took longer, holding himself in his place, before giving in and slowly trailing after the two men.

Lauren's eyes followed him until he closed the door, at which time, she returned her attention to the meeting taking place before her.

She sighed inwardly and met Gabrielle's eye. "Where were we?"

* * *

 **review pleeeeeease~~**


	10. Chapter 9 - Beforehand

" _I wouldn't test a Hunter of Artemis if I were you, Agent Barton." Chiron opened the door and wheeled through it. "Come."_

 _After another long moment, Stark seemed to think better of himself. He followed Chiron out the door, smirking slightly as he passed by the demigods. Barton took longer, holding himself in his place, before giving in and slowly trailing after the two men._

 _Lauren's eyes followed him until he closed the door, at which time, she returned her attention to the meeting taking place before her._

 _She sighed inwardly and met Gabrielle's eye. "Where were we?"_

* * *

"The golden capital, golden it may be, can only be saved by the eldest for Three," he recited. "So does 'Three' mean the Big Three, or…?"

Jason shrugged. "We have no other leads on it."

"Hades is the eldest among the three of them," said Lauren. "Though I have no idea how we are going to convince him to help—"

"No," Annabeth suddenly interrupted. There was a crease in her forehead, which was always present when she was deep in thought. "No, the prophecy stated 'the eldest for Three'. _For_ Three, not _of_ Three. Which means that we're not looking for the oldest of the Big Three, but _of their_ eldest—their eldest children."

Percy stared at her in admiration. "You're a genius, you know that?"

Lauren thought about it for a moment, looking for any flaw in Annabeth's reasoning. There weren't any, of course. Annabeth was rarely incorrect.

"Olympus is closed off, so we have no way of asking them for help," she pointed out. "At best, Nico can go to the Underworld and do some research down there. I am positive that Hades has had children before Nico, though not with a mortal woman. Percy, Jason—you'll have to talk with him about this… and be on your guard for any kind of reference to a 'golden capital' of some sort."

"If it helps any," Will Solace began, rather uncertainly. "Nico's in Italy right now… at least, that's what he told me."

"Got it," Jason replied, sharing what seemed to be a knowing look with the son of Apollo. Lauren didn't appreciate it, but the course of the conversation changed when Jason looked at Percy with a frown.

"Percy," said Hazel. "What's up?"

"We've got a bit of a problem." He raised his eyes to look at Annabeth before pointing at himself.

"Pops already had a ton of kids before falling in love with my mom and having me," he explained. "So I have no idea who my _oldest_ sibling could be—a minor god, for sure." He shrugged lightly. "Nico's got no problem since he's older than Hazel, anyway. And Jason, you—you're definitely the eldest _demigod_ son of Zeus. No other siblings, right?"

He had obviously thought his words through, but it didn't seem to help any. In fact, Lauren thought that he had only made things worse.

She scowled and watched Jason's face turn from thoughtful to miserable in a heartbeat.

"No," he answered glumly, his eyes downcast. Lauren's heart clenched, able to relate to his sadness at the loss of a sister, but she did better in hiding her pain.

"Hephaestus was Zeus' first child," Leo suddenly spoke up. "Right?"

Lauren sighed. "We will deal with the complications another time. Gabrielle, the next line."

"Their foe has lost one hand, the other may still carry," Gabrielle said, "an alliance that will kill and, in the end, bury."

The atmosphere in the room seemed to drop. Lauren understood why.

It was far too soon for another death, but what was coming seemed to be much bigger than they had originally anticipated. If Orion had become allies with someone who had the same intentions as him, and if that someone had an army, then there would undoubtedly be more shrouds to burn.

Sighing deeply, Lauren asked, "Has anyone severed a hand, then?"

Miranda Gardiner snorted. "I bet the Ares cabin had something to do with a severed hand," she muttered, and then met Clarisse's gaze. "No offense."

Clarisse raised an eyebrow. "Why would that be offensive?" At Miranda's amused expression, Clarisse shook her head. "But no, none of my guys have mentioned anything about cutting off someone's hand."

"Not even during the war?" Rachel Dare urged; Lauren had almost forgotten that she was in the room with them. "Not during one of their Quests? Or a feud? Something they had done before coming to camp?"

Clarisse thought for a moment before saying, "I'll have to ask them later, but everyone else better do the same. It's not like my cabin's the only one that's killed anyone." No one objected to her request.

"The counselors will all discuss this with their cabins as soon as this meeting is over," Lauren agreed, her eyes flicking to the Hunters, who hovered behind her.

"So this meeting _isn't_ over yet?" Connor Stoll drawled uninterestedly, his elbow on the table.

Lauren regarded him and his brother wearily and considered; they had discussed all they needed to. Her Quest with the mortal archer was planned and was to be conducted two days from now. They had analyzed the prophecies as best as they could. All they could do now was to prepare the camp, inform Reyna of the prophecies and the things discussed, and speak to Nico about his role.

"I suppose it is," she said. "Frank Zhang and Hazel, I want you to head back to Camp Jupiter as soon as you can and inform Reyna of everything that has transpired here."

The two Roman demigods bobbed their heads.

"Percy, Annabeth, the two of you should stay here and whip the camp up into shape in case the Fleece fluctuates again."

The couple shared a look, but otherwise nodded their agreement.

"Jason Grace, send an Iris message to the Son of Hades. Explain the situation to him, and notify him of his role."

He nodded.

"Gabrielle, you and your cabin will look for any information referring to a 'golden capital'. That goes for the rest of you. And if any of you remember to have cut off a hand or two…" She sighed softly. "Let me know. Otherwise, this meeting is over."

Leo and the Stoll brothers were the first ones out of their seats and through the door. Others followed, until finally Lauren and the Hunters were left with a dozing Clovis, and Butch and Pollux, who did not give her a second glance as they led Rachel Dare out the Big House. Lauren scoffed, not missing the look of infatuation on the girl's face as she looked at Butch.

Tearing her gaze away from Rachel, Lauren turned to find the Hunters looking very upset with how the events had unfolded. Jill, most of all. Frowning, Lauren gestured for them to follow her out of the Big House.

"You're going on a Quest," said Jill.

"Yes."

"With a human."

"Yes."

" _Orion's_ doppelganger."

Lauren sighed unhappily. "Yes."

Jill pursed her lips. "Artemis won't be happy…"

"Which is why I must do it," Lauren retorted gently. "I am her lieutenant, and therefore I have to do everything in my power in order to keep you girls from becoming _tainted_. Like Chiron said, I'm 'taking one for the team'. And besides…" She glanced uneasily at the sky. "I have no doubt that she has not abandoned us, but she has given me no signs. No messages. Nothing. We cannot just sit idly by while our enemies gather. I will not allow it."

Even then, she waited for something to happen—a flash of lightning, dark clouds, a rumble of thunder, that would signify Artemis' distress. Perhaps the goddess would come down and inflict punishment on Lauren herself. But there was nothing.

"And I am not looking forward to it, Jill," she continued. "But trouble is brewing."

Jill nodded in agreement. "Orion's back."

At the sound of his name, Lauren was filled with a sudden urgency. She remembered what happened in their last encounter with the giant. Unease bubbled in her stomach. Standing in front of the Hunters, seeing how little they had become—she wanted to bring back their honor. Lauren looked at Jill—younger than her but older than the rest—and placed a hand on her shoulder. Their eyes met.

"No Hunter will fall to the hands of Orion again. I will find his bane, and I will put him down for good," she promised. "Do you understand?"

"I understand."

* * *

After eating lunch and sacrificing half of their meal to the gods, Lauren and the Hunters allowed themselves some entertainment: having a go at the Climbing Wall—one of the very first attempts for some of them—and playing on the Volleyball Court, before finally settling down at the beach.

Darkness had settled around the camp. The rest of the campers, along with Chiron, were having their nightly bonfire, though most of the Hunters had a mutual agreement that they didn't want to join that. Some had separated, their curiosity winning over, for it was their first time to be introduced to the camp's customs.

Lauren let them go, thinking it would be good for them to experience the regular traditions.

Meanwhile, she hadn't been able to steal any fireworks from the Big House attic, but they were doing fine without any materials. The water was too cold for them to swim or sink their feet into it, but the dry sand was the perfect temperature of cool.

Lauren sat there beside her sisters-in-arms, cross-legged, and facing the estuary that was Long Island Sound.

She watched the waves pull onto shore, eventually being devoured by another, watching the way their force tugged at the tiny stones in the sand, how the continuous rhythm of it did not stop. The soft gurgling of the soft waves, and the rumbling of the harder ones, kept her ears pricked.

Beside her, she heard the Hunters talking and laughing amongst themselves. Upon hearing a particularly amusing exchange, she couldn't help but to smile.

There was a hint of movement beside her. Out of the corner of her eye, she found Jill had come to sit beside her. Without having to turn her head, she could see the mess that was her hair.

Smiling softly, Lauren shifted so that she was kneeling behind Jill. She undid the girl's current chaotic braid, combing the golden tangles out using her fingers. She kept the bond between her teeth as she split Jill's hair into three and began arranging them into a more fitful weave. When she finished, she laid a hand on the younger girl's head.

Jill sighed heavily, and Lauren frowned.

"It has been a while since we've spent quality time together, after Artemis left for Olympus," Lauren murmured. "I have nothing very important to do tomorrow. If you'd like, we could sleep in."

To their right, there came a squeal of surprise.

"What was that?" a Hunter, Kali, said, jumping to her feet. " _Sleep in_?" She put her hand on her chest and feigned seriousness. "I mean, I'm all for it, but I think Aria might have nightmares about her turtle again and wake us all up at the crack of dawn."

The brunette she was pertaining to exclaimed and covered her face in embarrassment. Kali laughed. And it might have been a private joke and Lauren was yet to hear the entirety of the story, but she laughed as well.

* * *

Sleeping in was something the Hunters were rarely allowed to do. Artemis deeply believed in the saying "The early bird catches the worm". And as she was the goddess of hunting, she _always_ wanted to catch the worm.

Under normal circumstances, the Hunters would wake up at the crack of dawn. But considering they weren't going to be hunting for a while, and their mistress was gone, Lauren decided it would be good for her and the girls to have a full night of sleep.

It had originally seemed like a good idea… when her mind was peaceful and calm, and sending her signals that she was tired. But as she lay on the top bunk of one of the beds, her eyes locked onto the ceiling and her hands clasped on her stomach, her thoughts plagued her.

She was going to Greece in two days. Before that, she would have to decide and research on exactly where they were to land first. They were going to have seven days to figure out _where_ Orion's bane was, and how they were going to use it.

They knew almost nothing about it other than the fact that she, or Agent Barton, weren't going to be able to see it unless there was trust. And that was the part Lauren was most anxious about.

She did not trust Agent Barton—not enough for her to be comfortable with going on a Quest with him. He may have been an accomplished archer, and that may have gotten him perhaps a small amount of her approval, but he worked for an organization that Lauren most certainly did _not_ want to confide in.

Just because they worked in the favor of humans didn't mean that they weren't dangerous.

Zeus would surely be upset with the events going on. He didn't like mortals becoming involved with happenings behind the Mist. And he surely wouldn't appreciate Lauren's decision to have Hazel control the Mist, to let Agent Barton and Tony Stark see past the magical barrier.

Lauren was almost positive that, when everything was sorted out (and if she was still alive), the god of the sky was going to blast her with one of his lightning bolts.

Finally, a yawn made its way out of her mouth. Lauren tugged her pillow out from beneath her head and tucked it to her chest, curling around it as she flipped to lie on her side. Now she faced the bed across from her, where Jill was sleeping in the bottom bunk.

Lauren closed her eyes, listening to her sisters' soft breathing and letting it lull her to a deep sleep.

* * *

 **NIGHT 1**

 _It hovers over me, its tail poised above its head. Venom drips from the tip and falls onto the material above my sternum. I register a hissing sound, and steam is just floating into my line of vision when I feel the overwhelming sense of pain._

 _"ARTEMIS!" I scream. Another drop of venom lands on my arm, and there is nothing keeping it off my skin this time. The agony is immediate._

 _"ARTEMIS, PLEASE! PHOEBE!"_

 _The monster enters my line of sight. Its face is hideous, but I can barely think of this as another drop of venom falls. This time, it lands on my face. The tears spring free. "ADA! LENORE! WHERE ARE YOU? HELP ME—"_

 **"Anegnoro."**

 _The monster clicks its pincers together._

 **"Look for Anegnoro…"**

 _Time slows down. The monster pulls its tail back before it starts descending, aimed right at my chest. I close my eyes tight and wait for death. It is inevitable. But Artemis did not come. None of them did._

 _Yet surely they had heard me. If they did not, what were their better senses for?_

 _They should have come. They could have saved me. Killed the beast and gotten me to my feet and—_

 _"Lauren."_

 _Who is Lauren?_

 _"Lauren, wake up."_

 _Wake up… Have I already died?_

 _For a moment, I am tempted to open my eyes. But then the monster's stinger rips into my chest. I scream but my throat is soon clogged with blood._

"Lauren!"

* * *

Lauren's eyes snapped open and she sprung to a sitting position. Her arm poised to pull an arrow out of her quiver.

But she had no quiver. She had no bow.

She was completely unarmed, sitting on her bunk bed, her head only two or three inches from hitting the ceiling.

Jill stood on the ground beneath her, looking at her with wide eyes. Lauren looked past her frightened expression for a moment and registered the pillow that was lying on the floor beside her bed. She must have been thrashing around in the night, then… but the nightmares had never been so bad before.

She observed that no one else were in their beds, and the bright sunlight streaming into the room. "What time is it?" she inquired, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

"A little half past 10."

Noticing the look of urgency on Jill's face, Lauren said, "Why did you wake me?"

Jill gestured over her shoulder to the door. "You have a… visitor."

Lauren thought this over for a moment, jumping off the bunk bed and looking for her jacket. "One of the humans?" she asked.

"No…" At the anxious look on Jill's face, Lauren raised a professional eyebrow, coaxing herself into leader-mode. Jill pursed her lips. "It's an Aesir."


	11. Chapter 10 - Asgard

**And just like that, our chapters have reached double digits! :)**

* * *

While she freshened up, redid her braid, and changed into a new set of clothes, Lauren already had an inkling on which Aesir was waiting for her outside. And she turned out to be correct.

The Norse god of thunder stood near the bonfire pile, standing beside Chiron, who was in his wheelchair. Their amused eyes were glued to Mjolnir.

The hammer was surrounded by a circle of campers, mostly from the Ares cabin. They took turns trying to lift the hammer. Lauren regarded the scene as she strode out of the Artemis cabin with Jill by her side.

A burly camper with dark skin and large arms gave up on the task with a loud huff, sweat trailing down his neck. And then Clarisse La Rue walked up to accept the challenge. Lauren narrowed her eyes. She had heard of the heroic things the daughter of Ares had done, especially during the first Titan War. But she did not have the rest of the qualities needed in order to lift Mjolnir.

From afar, Lauren might have seen the hammer adjust in its position slightly when Clarisse tugged on it, but it did no more than that.

Lauren closed the distance, eyes on Chiron.

"I thought you were running a camp, not an amusement park," she chided.

The centaur returned her look with a glint in his eye before clearing his throat and waving the campers off.

"Come now, off with you!" he yelled in order to be heard over the cheering of the Ares kids. "Perhaps in your training, you'll gain the merits and not the _strength_ in order to lift Mjolnir."

The crowd dispersed, mumbling amongst themselves, some cradling their arms, perhaps having pulled a muscle. Lauren followed them with her eyes, making sure everyone left. There were no signs of Agent Barton or Tony Stark. She hoped that they had left.

Frowning at Thor, she said, "Pick that up, will you?"

"Wouldn't you like to try, Lady Hunter?" He smirked lightly. "I have heard of great things about the Hunters of Artemis. Perhaps you have the makings of lifting Mjolnir."

"It is not right for a daughter of Greece to wield a weapon of the Norse," she retorted. "And are you so eager to have that stolen away from you? Pick it up."

Thor complied, not even having to strain for the hammer to lift off the ground. Lauren gave his cloaked look a onceover.

"Why have you come?" she inquired slowly, trying to read the change of expression on the god's face.

He pursed his lips. "The All-Father requests an audience with you."

Lauren's eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. She turned her head and met Jill's eyes, but she was just as lost as she was. "For what reason?"

"He grows more anxious every passing hour about the disturbances in both Jotunheim and the Pit. He thinks that perhaps an alliance is brewing… It is not coincidence."

"No, it's not," Lauren agreed.

"And is Heimdall correct about your Oracle stating not one, but _two_ prophecies yesterday?"

"He is."

"Then we have no time to waste. We leave for Asgard immediately." Whirling around, he strode away—to where, Lauren didn't know.

She only released a humorless laugh at his statement, sharing a look with an anxious Jill. "I am not going with you to _Asgard_ , Thor," she said.

Thor faced her again, a questioning look on his face. "Why not?"

"The same reason I would not even _try_ and wield your hammer," Lauren replied. "I am a Greek. I will not willingly step into the hall of the Norse gods. It isn't right."

"My father would not mind. It is he himself who requested you be let onto the Rainbow Bridge—"

"It is not his choice to make," she snapped. " _I_ do not want to."

"He will be unhappy about your refusal, Lady Hunter," Thor warned. "He has told me that it is imperative that he speak with you about the given prophecies. He worries that…"

At the god's hesitation, Lauren narrowed her eyes. "That what?"

He met her gaze uncertainly and started adjusting and readjusting his grip on Mjolnir; Lauren didn't know what to think, until…

"That perhaps one of your minor goddesses might be willing to join forces with a leader of Jotunheim, in order to achieve their same goal: turning Midgard into a world coated in ice." He paused, letting the possibility sink in. "To be more specific, this Khione you have been constantly speak of."

Lauren looked around at the light sheets of snow falling around them. It was no longer very violent; there had been no _venti_ spotted. Lauren had no idea when or why everything had become so… _calm_.

"Even if Khione has found a way to enter Jotunheim, why hasn't she attacked yet? The Frost Giants of Jotunheim have prowess that is far above both the Roman and Greek camps' abilities… Why hasn't she attacked?" And thinking more on it, she added, "Why hasn't she sent so much as a warning? A scouting legion?"

"The new leader of Jotunheim may have a better scheme up his sleeve," said Thor. "I am yet to know absolutely everything about the situation, Lady Hunter. But I implore that you come speak with the All-Father. The urgency is above reproach."

"I understand that," Lauren snapped. "Just… give me a moment."

She turned away from the god of thunder and walked a few steps away, pulling Jill along with her.

Speaking to Jill, now, she murmured, "What do you think?" When the younger girl only stared at her, she smiled softly. "You are my second in command, Jill. You will have to learn to speak for yourself someday. Do you think I should go or not?"

Jill was quiet for a long moment, her eyebrows scrunching together in thought.

"Olympus has been closed off. They never do that. The threat must be huge…" she thought out loud, before raising her head to meet Lauren's eyes. "You should go, find out more about what's happening with the Frost Giants. Khione couldn't have possibly gotten there on her own. If she was let onto Norse soil, both she and the Frost Giants would have wanted it to happen."

Satisfied, Lauren nodded. "Very well."

She turned them both around and returned to stand in front of Thor. She thought over exactly what she was about to agree to—once, then twice—before reaching her own conclusion.

"I will go with you to Asgard."

"Excellent," said Thor, smiling slightly. "You will not need to bring anything—your weapons, if it makes you feel better—though the All-Father promised not to keep you for long."

"I'd prefer to be back in less than three hours."

Thor was quiet for a moment before he nodded. "Now, if there is nothing else…?"

"Oh, yes. Hang on a minute, Thor," Chiron suddenly cut in. He had been so quiet that Lauren almost forgot he was just beside the god of thunder. "If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to speak to Lauren before you leave." At the deity's hesitant look, the centaur added softly, "I won't take long. Just a few reminders."

Thor bobbed his head once, and Chiron wheeled around, gesturing for Lauren to follow him.

She pulled Jill aside, saying, "Tell the others why I am gone. I'll see you at noon," before trailing after the centaur.

Chiron stopped a few ways away from the Zeus and Hera cabins, probably because there were smaller chances of anyone listening in there.

He adjusted his wheelchair to face Lauren; his grim expression unnerved her. "I hope you aren't planning on saying anything foolish to Odin, Lauren," he said sternly. "Or to anyone on Asgard, for that matter."

Lauren scoffed. "I cannot promise anything."

"Lauren, I implore you," said Chiron. "If the outcome of fulfilling these two prophecies will result in a war—not just any war, but a war among _two_ civilizations… we will need all the allies we can get." He looked at her with gentle eyes. "Explain to them our revelations about the prophecies, about Orion, Khione, the Frost Giants—I don't care if they already know. Tell them about your dreams, as well as Ethan's. Everything. Do you understand?"

With an impatient nod, she said, "Is that all you have to say?"

"Is Ethan safe?"

She hesitated for a moment. "Why do you ask?"

"I'd prefer that he were here, where I can watch him," he replied lowly. "He still does not know how to protect himself properly. If a monster were to attack… if _Khione_ were to attack…"

"The Avengers are with him," she said.

Chiron shook his head vigorously. "But not just that—I want to be monitoring his dreams. I know for a fact that they aren't being given to him by pure coincidence. Either Apollo or Morpheus is sending those dreams. Quite frankly, I want to know if they are a warning of some sort… Perhaps they are like Rachel's ability to prophesize, constantly changing with the weave of time…"

Lauren stopped listening there. She'd heard enough. She was convinced. Whirling around, she snapped her fingers to catch Thor's attention and asked him, "Do you have any means of contacting Director Fury?"

Behind her, Chiron stopped rambling.

Thor frowned. "Yes, he gave me some sort of contraption yesterday before I left… Why?"

"Tell him the boy Ethan needs to be brought here as soon as possible. I don't care if he sends along an escort. Just make sure that he is brought here by sunset today, or I will send someone to get him. Understand?"

He nodded. "I will attempt to use his contraption now. Will you meet me at the top of Half-Blood Hill?"

Lauren jerked her head in an affirmative. She strode past Chiron, who was still brooding, to the Artemis cabin. None of the Hunters were there, which she was thankful for because she didn't want to have to answer their questions.

She retrieved her bow and quiver of arrows and walked back out.

Ignoring the glances that campers were throwing at her, she reached the top of Half-Blood Hill and hung back, pacing near Thalia's Pine. She was far enough away that the dragon Peleus wasn't intimidated by her presence.

She warily regarded the Golden Fleece draped across the tree's large roots, inwardly praying to the gods that it wouldn't fluctuate while she was gone. The heavy sheet of snow covering it wasn't reassuring, until Peleus blew a thin gust of fire onto it.

A while later, Thor arrived, Mjolnir at hand. "We must be outside the borders of the camp in order for the Bifrost to reach us," he said.

Scowling, but not questioning him, Lauren stepped away from Peleus, ensuring that Thalia's Pine was indeed behind her. Thor did the same so that he was beside her, and then raised his hammer.

There came a soft whistling sound. The cloudless sky seemed to open up like hangar doors—except thirty times faster. A bright beam of light shot down and Lauren had to close her eyes.

Warmth enveloped her, cancelling out the effects of the winter. Yet at that same moment, a strong wave of vertigo hit, as if she was looking down from Mount Everest itself. Lauren clutched her stomach.

As quickly as it had come, Lauren noticed the bright light dissipate to a soft glow. The heat was still there, but gentler this time, not quite burning through her bones.

Taking a deep breath, she slowly opened her eyes, and stared in awe at the magnificent sight before her.

The golden structures looming overhead were unlike anything Lauren had ever seen—not even in Mount Olympus. Soft pink clouds hovered above. They were sure to turn darker, but no less beautiful as the day progressed and night took over.

She composed herself, taking another moment to admire the scene before looking at Thor. "No time to waste," she said, gesturing for him to lead the way.

He looked surprised, most probably because she had regained her self-control so quickly (the after-effects of the vertigo didn't help); otherwise, he started walking.

The soft hum beneath her feet had not gone unnoticed by Lauren. She didn't need to glance down, only forward, to see the aurora of colors that seeped through the thick glass bridge. Little tendrils of blue, green, violet—any color she could think of, and perhaps even the ones she couldn't. Just staring at it sent a jolt through her.

Looking around at the radiance of it all, the lines from the second prophecy sprung to mind: _In nine long nights, the bridge will be crossed. The golden capital, golden it may be…_

"The bridge," she whispered to herself, and then raised her head, scanning the horizon—golden towers as far as the eye could see. "The golden capital…"

It dawned on her, then. The thoughts swirling in her head nearly left her struggling to walk straight.

Halfway down the Bifrost, they were met with a dark-skinned man with gold eyes. He was dressed in gleaming armor and held a large sword in front of him with two hands. His gaze seemed to pierce through her, as if he was looking into her very soul. Lauren guessed that this was Heimdall.

"This is the lieutenant of Artemis?" he asked Thor, to which the god of thunder only nodded.

"Is my father ready?" said Thor.

"He is in the throne room as we speak."

Thor nodded again, and then continued on his way. Lauren made to follow him but halted when she heard Heimdall say, "Please do not use your weapons in my city."

Lauren was reminded of Terminus, and how the Norse in front of her was so very different from him—mostly, in terms of having arms and a lower half. She hid her smile well and replied with a simple nod before trailing after Thor.

The Asgardians didn't exactly give her a warm welcome. Their eyes would often stray to her bow, undoubtedly wondering just who she was. Lauren guessed that Odin didn't really update them with whatever happened in the Nine Realms.

She did her best to ignore the looks given to her by the women, and seethed when men gave second glances.

The whole of Mount Olympus was still larger than Asgard's palace, but Lauren was impressed with the architecture. It was difficult to layout the entirety of the inside of the palace, so Lauren stopped trying.

She let Thor lead her down vast halls with pillars and columns, winding staircases, and cavernous rooms, until finally they stopped at a wide hallway, in front of what looked to be the most heavily-guarded doors.

As soon as the sentries saw Thor, they stepped aside, while two stepped up to push the doors open. Thor and Lauren walked through the entrance, and they were met with a room as wide as the Big House.

About three dozen guards waited in front, lined up, acting as a pathway leading to the throne, where the All-Father sat.

He looked more like Chiron instead of Zeus, with the neat hair reaching the nape of his neck, and the scraggy beard—except he had white hair, rougher skin, a golden eyepatch, and older eyes. His armor greatly resembled Thor's (which Lauren had caught a glimpse of beneath the cloak); he held a staff with a pointed end, and had his other arm tucked into his abdomen, as if it were broken. And though he did not look very intimidating, Lauren knew better.

A golden-haired woman stood beside him. Lauren didn't know enough Scandinavian folktales to know who she was.

Thor led the way until they were in front of the short flight of stairs that led up to the throne. Immediately, he got onto one knee and bowed his head.

Lauren glanced about them, narrowing her eyes at the thin crowd of people gathered behind the guards. Perhaps they were deities, witnesses… scribes? She would much rather have spoken with the All-Father alone, but she was in no place to argue.

She heard someone clear her throat, and turned her head to find the golden-haired woman looking down at her with kind, but expectant eyes.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Lauren knelt down beside Thor, but did not bow her head.

Odin didn't look at her. "Rise, my son," he said. Thor straightened up, while Lauren kept her chin up. Her calculating eyes stayed on the All-Father. "I trust there was no trouble with bringing our… _visitor_ here?"

"None, father," Thor replied, his booming voice echoing all across the room.

Odin nodded once, before looking to Lauren. "What is your name?"

"Lauren Brooks, All-Father." She had no plans of ever calling anyone _Your Majesty_ , except for Artemis.

"I am grateful that you accepted my request; however, I doubted that you would come."

"As did I," Lauren said in a loud enough voice.

She kept in mind that she was kneeling before a man very similar to Zeus, and therefore had to speak with respect. But, as the same went for speaking with Zeus, she didn't enjoy it.

There was a pregnant silence, one she did not wish to fill, before he spoke again. "At early evening yesterday, our gatekeeper, Heimdall, informed me of a prophecy being spoken. A Greek prophecy, by the Oracle of Delphi. Yet not only one, but two prophecies." He paused. "As you should know, the place in which these prophecies were spoken is protected by a magical barrier. It made that even Heimdall, the one who sees all, could not see and hear the happenings. And so I ask you to recite these prophecies, and speak it well."

The way he spoke just like Zeus irritated her. "May I stand?"

"You may."

She did, hastily; took a deep breath and clasped her hands behind her before springing into recitation.

Halfway through, Lauren's façade of playing it cool broke away, replaced by her original anxiety and ineptness.

When she was finished, she regarded Odin's blank expression—the complete opposite of Thor's. "You need only worry about the latter part of it, of course," she said, letting a hint of contempt drip into her words.

The All-Father showed no signs of noticing it, and only asked for the second prophecy. Lauren, feeling rather more reluctant in letting him hear the prophecy about _her_ Quest, shook her head slightly. "We can speak of it later. This first one is more urgent. We think it may be pertaining to—"

"One prophecy," Odin snapped, "is never more important than another. I will hear the second one before we speak of anything else."

Lauren bristled at his interruption. Her hands clenched into fists behind her. "I may leave here, _All-Father_ , if I so prefer, for you were the one who requested I cross over—"

" _I_ requested!" Odin shouted. "And you, of a lesser civilization and lesser _being_ , will stay and inform me of anything I want, unless ordered not to—by _me_!"

Until then, her head had been bowed, eyes staring at the floor because she had heard Thor murmur for her to do so. But hearing his clear denunciation, calling her _lesser_ , reminded her that he held nothing over her.

He was not her god.

Lauren raised her head slowly, and met his blazing eye with her own. "Until you revoke your accusation about the Greeks, I will say nothing more."

She noticed his jaw clench. For a long while, there was nothing but deadly silence between them. Several moments in, she thought that he would blast her to oblivion.

But then, with an irritated sigh, he looked away and waved his hand. Lauren caught Thor's surprised expression, then. She guessed that Odin backing down from a staring contest was perhaps a sign of remorse—a prideful sign (which Lauren expected from a man), but a sign nonetheless.

Scowling, she began reciting the prophecy for her Quest.


	12. Chapter 11 - Decode

" _Until you revoke your accusation about the Greeks, I will say nothing more."_

 _She noticed his jaw clench. For a long while, there was nothing but deadly silence between them. Several moments in, she thought that he would blast her to oblivion._

 _But then, with an irritated sigh, he looked away and waved his hand. Lauren caught Thor's surprised expression, then. She guessed that Odin backing down from a staring contest was perhaps a sign of remorse—a prideful sign (which Lauren expected from a man), but a sign nonetheless._

 _Scowling, she began reciting the prophecy for her Quest._

* * *

She grudgingly recounted the lines and, when she was finished, was barely able to bite back a snappy retort. She regarded Odin with hateful eyes. "Like I said, it is nothing the Aesir need concern themselves with."

Odin straightened in his throne. "It sounds like a prophecy for a voyage," he said. "Is it?"

"Is it what?" Lauren let a disinterested tone into her voice, sighing slightly.

"For a voyage," he barked as a retort. "Is it a prophecy for a voyage?"

"If you are asking if we must fulfill it, then _yes_ ," said Lauren. "All prophecies must be fulfilled—quite obviously."

He ignored the last bit of her statement and started stroking his beard, like how Chiron did. "What is it you demigods call it?" he wondered aloud. "A quest—it is a prophecy for a quest."

"It is."

"Whose quest?"

She ground her teeth together; he was just like the government Agent Barton worked for: didn't know how to mind his own business. Thor cleared his throat, eyeing Lauren warningly.

"Mine," she answered.

"And an archer of Earth…" Odin trailed off. "Who will accompany you in this quest?"

"Agent Clint Barton, a representative from S.H.I.E.L.D. Your son is allied with him in the Avengers Initiative."

Thor faced his father and nodded. "Hawkeye is a prodigious warrior. He will not let the quest fail."

"If I am not mistaken," said Odin, "Gaea is your Greek Earth Mother, yes?"

"Yes." Lauren decided against giving him the details of her almost-rising two years ago, assuming that Heimdall had been able to see the battle anyway, for it had not happened within the borders of the camp.

Guessing the All-Father's train of thought, she added, "Her son—the one being spoken of in the prophecy—is Orion. He played a part in one of our wars two years ago, but was killed… which I suppose brings me to mention what Thor said to me a few days ago."

She straightened. "He said you felt something stirring within Tartarus. I and the Greeks have come to the same conclusion that Orion has risen again." She waited for a reaction, but there was none. "He is mentioned in the first prophecy, in the first line."

"The hunter's heel has touched the river of dreams," Thor recalled silently.

Lauren nodded. "The river of dreams is a title the Greeks made for the River Styx. Do you know what happens when a demigod wades through the Styx?"

"They become invincible, though with an… Achilles Heel," Odin answered, not seeming to notice the cynicism in her words.

"Now imagine a giant son of Gaea, with originally almost _no_ weaknesses _at all_ , bathing in said river." She let the words sink in before continuing, "This is the kind of threat we are facing, All-Father. And there have been attacks at camp, fluctuations with our borders that have been caused by some sort of ice magic. We think that it might be Khione—"

"Greek goddess of ice," Odin clarified.

"Yes. An early line in the prophecy states that Orion has found 'treaty' in someone with familiar schemes. Both Orion and Khione worked under Gaea two years ago. We stopped them in time, killed Orion, but Khione escaped. There is a large possibility that they are working together again, with the same plan as before… And with what Thor told me about what's been happening on Jotunheim, the likelihood is even greater."

"It would make sense, father," Thor interjected. "Frost Giants walking in daylight has never happened as often as it is now. If Khione and Orion are working together for control over Midgard, it would make sense for them to turn to the Jotunns. Decades ago, they once fought with us over Midgard.

Lauren nodded in agreement. "Perhaps they think that now is the right time to try again, with the allies they need in order to _completely_ take over."

A dark look crossed Odin's face, and Lauren knew that he would not let the prophecies go lightly. As thin as his temper was, kings always made decisions to protect their realms. Odin was no exception.

"Thor mentioned something about you having dreams," he said. "The same dreams as another demigod, a boy."

Lauren made a face. "Yes," she muttered. "Only mere hints about my quest. I assure you, now, that I have deciphered most of them. But…" She remembered something, then. Something Ethan had told her in the briefing room of S.H.I.E.L.D., when they had just been let out of custody and were speaking among the Avengers:

" _I went to this seriously blue place… I remember it being so cold… The statues… the statues were moving, I think… There was this one guy, standing by a throne of ice or something. I couldn't see his face… but a girl was beside him."_

"The boy I've been having the same dreams with," Lauren spurted abruptly. "Ethan—there was something different in one of his dreams. By the end, he said he dreamt of being on Jotunheim. He said that the statues were moving, and there was a man standing by a throne. Khione was beside him."

Odin shook his head wearily.

"Yet the things you speak of are impossible," he stated. "No being of another civilization is allowed to cross over to _any_ Nordse realm unless accompanied by an Asgardian. And crossing over can only be done by the Bifrost. Heimdall would not—"

"The prophecy," someone interrupted. Lauren's eyes snapped to the woman standing by Odin, the one with golden hair. A panicked look had edged onto her face and she gestured to Lauren, "The first one, repeat it—the fourth line."

Lauren counted in her head and began, "'In nine long nights, the bridge will be crossed. The golden capital, golden it may be, can only be saved by the eldest for Three. Their foe has lost one hand, the other may still carry an alliance that will kill and, in the end, bury.' I was about to explain this. Two days ago, nine nights was to reach the winter solstice, the height of magic everywhere. And I am positive the golden capital is here, Asgard. I have already spoken with the mentioned 'Three' and they know their roles—"

"Odin, the final two lines," the woman interrupted again. " _Their foe has lost one hand—_ "

"You think Tyr would attempt our downfall?" Odin boomed, aghast. "If anyone were to conspire with the Frost Giants and a snow goddess, it would be Loki!"

"Loki has been relieved of his chains for the better part of a year now, father," Thor reminded him. "There has been no ill news of anything. He has been cooperative. Silvia has helped him—"

"All-Father," Lauren cut in. "You said that crossing over to Jotunheim, or any of the realms, can only be done if one is accompanied by an Asgardian. It is possible, then, for Khione to reach Jotunheim if she were to be allied with… Tyr?"

"It is possible, yes," said Odin. "But Tyr has been quiet. I see no reason for him to just betray us."

"He lost a hand to Fenris," the golden-haired woman chided. "We left him with no titles, no wives, and no blessings. And he is your son, Odin; he has the power needed in order to _trick_ the Bifrost… with dark magic, yes, but it is not the first time he has done such a thing—"

Odin's growl stopped her short. "We will speak more of this later, Frigga," he said.

The woman, Frigga, stepped down with hesitance. Odin once again looked to Lauren. "The eldest for Three the prophecy speaks of—you are familiar with them?"

"Jason Grace, Nico Di Angelo, and Percy Jaskon," Lauren replied. "Though we are yet to find the eldest _immortal_ children of the Big Three."

"On the afternoon of the winter solstice, tell them to be away from the magical barrier of your camp. They must be where Heimdall can reach them so they can come here."

Lauren regarded him with curious eyes. "We are allies in this conflict, then?"

He showed no sign of softening his gaze. "I will not let Asgard fall."

"What else will you do?"

"I will have Thor speak with Loki, and one of my warriors to look for the god Tyr. I will arrange my battalions to be ready for an attack on the winter solstice. They will guard the Bifrost but let the chosen Greek heroes pass. Aside from these, I will do nothing."

"But—"

"This conference is over. Thor, return her to Midgard."

As Thor turned and started tugging her arm, Lauren's eyes flashed. "You will do nothing for the Greeks?" she demanded. "Not even send a few of your warriors to help us?"

Odin said nothing, which only further angered her. "The fighting will be worse on Earth! You would have us, the people who told you of this upcoming war, die unequally?"

"I will prioritize my own people, Lady Brooks," Odin shot back. "If your Olympians are as wise, they would do the same."

Lauren lapsed into a resentful silence. She was still furious at him, but she knew he was right. No help would come from Olympus. Even now, they had closed themselves off when the camp needed them the most.

She let Thor lead her out of the palace and back to the Bifrost. She was seething throughout the entire journey.

When Heimdall activated the Rainbow Bridge and she was standing on Half-Blood Hill once more, alone, she barely noticed.

Turning around, she saw Peleus curled up by Thalia's Pine, snoozing, but occasionally snorting a breath of hot air to melt the accumulating snow on the Fleece. Everything was fine, then, which only made her more suspicious as to why Khione had backed down. Perhaps something had gone wrong with their plans.

It was more of wishful thinking, though.

Lauren began the slow walk back into camp. From the top of the Hill, she could see everything in its entirety. The Hunters were nowhere to be seen, so she assumed that perhaps they were inside the Mess Hall, or in the cabin. However, she spotted Chiron instructing a group of demigods at the archery range.

She jogged down the Hill and to him, bringing the heat back into her muscles, and also catching his attention.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Back so soon?"

"How long was I gone?" she asked.

"No more than two hours."

She sighed. "I suppose it's better that I was returned early, because we need another counselor meeting."

"Why?"

"Odin helped in decoding some more of the prophecy." Lauren's eyes strayed from the centaur for a moment to rest on a girl shooting at the range behind him. She'd gotten three bull's-eyes so far. Perhaps Lauren could speak to her when she was free. "Very important parts of the prophecy, I must say. Call the cabin counselors to the Big House. It is urgent."

* * *

And so the seniors of the camp were once again sitting under one roof, resulting in a once more packed rec room. Although, Frank and Hazel had already gone back to Camp Jupiter to consult with Reyna.

Lauren stood with her sisters, this time, as she explained what happened on Asgard.

"I know now that the golden capital is Asgard, and the bridge is the Bifrost," she said. "On the winter solstice, Odin has arranged for it to be the most heavily-guarded place. But he will let the Big Three's eldest children to enter."

"How will they know that it's them though?" Leo inquired.

"We'll make them bring a token or something," Lou Ellen suggested. "A sign of the Greeks and the Romans."

"A drachma?" said Gabrielle.

"Perhaps," Lauren said. "Thor agrees that Khione and Orion might have allied with the Frost Giants of Jotunheim. They wish to conquer Earth, as Khione had already made clear before. Thor recalled that the Frost Giants had tried to take Earth millennia ago, but failed. If I have to guess, Orion is only doing this for revenge—but with the same concept, nonetheless."

She met Annabeth's eye, and the daughter of Athena looked doubtful. "It's weird though, for Khione and Orion—Greek deities—to match up with a Norse army."

"It does sound kind of cuckoo," Percy agreed.

"Of course, if you have any more suggestions, feel free to let me know," Lauren shot back. "But the Aesir have conventions about the alliance as well. In a very previous dream of Ethan's, he stated seeing Khione standing with a man on Jotunheim. Odin says that the thought of a Greek goddess being able to transport onto a Norse realm is forbidden, unless allowed by himself or accompanied by another Aesir—which brings us to the last part of the prophecy."

"Their foe has lost one hand, the other may still carry an alliance that will kill and, in the end, bury," Will Solace recalled. "Is this 'foe' guy another Norse dude, then?"

Lauren nodded. "Odin thinks that perhaps it is either Loki, or another one of his sons by the name of Tyr."

"Loki's not a son of Odin though," Gabrielle added. "He's a Frost Giant. It would make more sense if he was the one working with Khione."

"Odin said this as well," said Lauren. "But Thor mentioned that Loki has been locked up for more than a year. Odin said he would send someone to speak privately with Loki, perhaps to keep an eye on him as well."

"He's a freaking psychopath," Leo stated. "Did you guys hear about what happened in New York when he came around? It looked worse than anything we could have done, I think." An uneasy silence crept into the room. Lauren scowled in disapproval at Leo, but said nothing of it.

Instead, she asked, "Have any of you heard of a 'Tyr' then?"

Connor Stoll sniggered. "Like when you're crying or—?"

"The god," Lauren snapped.

"Son of Odin," Annabeth said, "He got his hand bit off by this huge wolf while he was feeding it… Fenris was the name, I think—"

"The Fenris-wolf!" Lou Ellen exclaimed. "Yes, I remember now. Loki had four immortal children: the horse Sleipnir, the goddess Hel, the Midgard serpent, and the Fenris-wolf."

Leo made a disgusted sound from the back of his throat. "Dang, I guess he likes it kinky."

"The Fenris-wolf was destined to devour Odin at the end of the world," Lou Ellen continued, seemingly unfazed. "Only Tyr was brave enough to feed it, but when it grew bigger they were forced to tie it up. The wolf wouldn't let them unless someone put their hand in its mouth as a token of good faith, so Tyr put his hand into its mouth. When the Fenris-wolf discovered he had been tied up by magical bonds, he became furious and bit Tyr's hand right off."

Percy looked at her with wide eyes. "What kind of bedtime stories did your folks tell you when you were a kid?"

"Norse stories."

"Unless there is more to the prophecy," Lauren interjected firmly, "we must assume that Tyr is the one allying with the Frost Giants and Khione, though we should still keep our guard up with Loki. As Valdez said, he is a psychopath."

"The god of mischief and lies, if I'm not mistaken," Lou Ellen added.

Lauren turned to Jason. "Have you spoken with Nico?"

"Not yet," he replied, shaking his head. "I was planning on calling him tonight, just in case he was busy or something."

"Make sure you inform me of his reply before I leave tomorrow."

"Got it."

"Speaking of the quest," Chiron, who had been quiet until then, spoke up. "Where in Greece do you plan on looking for the bane?"

"Athens," she replied immediately. "I plan on asking the residents if they have seen or heard of anything unnatural in the forests, and we would stick to that."

Will leaned forward in his seat. "Do you have an idea on what the bane could be, then?"

"I am fairly sure it is a monster of a sort," said Lauren, after a moment of thought. "Judging from my dreams, I am always chased and killed by what seems to be a scorpion… but I cannot be sure. Its venom is always the cause of my downfall, so I suppose it will be Orion's as well."

Percy shrugged. "It makes sense," he said. "In the stories, Gaea sent a giant scorpion to kill Orion because he was killing too many animals."

Piper managed a small laugh. "Weird that she would stop animal extinction, but was willing to kill off possibly the entire human race not three years ago."

"Mother nature's revenge," Jill muttered behind Lauren, sending a shiver down her spine.

* * *

When the meeting came to an end and the counselors had dispersed, Lauren led the Hunters outside for a few bouts of training on the archery range. She had not, however, expected to find many of the Aphrodite campers running to the beach, switching exclamations that mainly consisted of "The hot guy's back!"

Piper McLean stayed behind and stared after her sisters, shaking her head.

Lauren narrowed her eyes, but instructed the Hunters to stay behind. She caught Will Solace walking by and called, "Solace!" He whirled around and met her gaze questioningly. "Ethan's here."

"Okay…?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Just follow me."

Without another word, she led him past the cabins and onto Fireworks Beach. There, they were met with the familiar Stark Jet looming over the gathered Aphrodite kids. Its engine was turned on, though, and a sense of alarm washed over Lauren as she watched it gain altitude and fly off.

She blinked the sand off her eyelashes and pursed her lips when the crowd parted. She saw Ethan walking towards her, with Clint Barton by his side.

Ethan was upset. "You left me!" he yelled at her. "It's not fair—"

"No, but it was necessary," she retorted sharply. "And it is not my job to be babysitting you, _boy_. I only have to keep you safe, and the facilities with Director Fury kept you safe, didn't it? Stop whining." The scowl remained on his face, the same with Lauren's, but she composed herself quicker and gestured to Will. "Besides, you have a cabin of your own now."

Will looked confused. "Wait, what?"

"He was claimed by Apollo," Lauren explained briefly. "He'll be staying in Cabin 7 from now on."

"Oh, cool." Will's face cleared a little bit and he reached forward to mess up Ethan's hair.

"You will take care of him while I am gone, yes?" said Lauren, to which Will nodded his head.

"While you're gone?" Ethan cut in. "Where are you going?"

"A quest."

"For what?"

Lauren bit her cheek in agitation and waved at Will. "I don't have time for this," she hissed. "You explain to him what has been happening— _in full_ , so he will not bother me anymore. Take him back to the cabin, introduce him to his siblings."

"'Kay," Will replied, and if he felt burdened with being given such a task, he didn't show it. Ethan looked hurt, for some reason, as he walked away with the older camper, leaving Lauren with Clint Barton.

She glanced up at the sky suspiciously. "Why is Stark not back yet? He will come back for you, won't he?"

Barton shook his head. "I received orders from Fury that I should stay here overnight. Maybe get some information about your camp or something. And he wants an early start tomorrow, so that's that."

"You think Chiron will let a _mortal_ stay in one of his cabins?"

"Take me to him and we'll know, won't we?"

Her eyes flashed dangerously, and for a brief moment, she wanted to stab him with one of her arrows.

Collecting herself, she whirled around and searched for Chiron, doing her best to ignore the second pair of footsteps following behind her.


	13. Chapter 12 - Relay

**The Hunters' arrows are made of BOTH silver and celestial bronze. It was just one of the things I decided to change up a bit.** **It doesn't change much anyway, because silver mixed with celestial bronze can still kill monsters, and still won't be able to hurt mortals.** **For me, it just didn't make sense that the arrows are seen as silver, but they're actually celestial bronze.**

 **That's all. :)**

 **Anything you might recognize is under the possession of Rick Riordan, Stan Lee, and Marvel.**

* * *

Chiron allowed Agent Barton to stay in camp for the night, which Lauren wasn't very happy about.

She had been listening in when the centaur said so; he'd said, "You might as well stay in the Nemesis cabin. It's the only one we have that isn't fully packed. Fair warning though: you might be slightly dazed by the interior design."

Barton had raised an eyebrow. "I'll keep that in mind."

He sat with Lou Ellen and a handful of the other Nemesis kids during dinner, but kept to the edge of the table and did not partake in their conversations. Lauren did her best to ignore him, but she knew that she'd have to speak with him when morning came.

After the bonfire, Lauren walked with the rest of the Hunters back to the Artemis cabin, not giving the agent a second glance.

* * *

 **NIGHT 2**

It was a quarter past midnight. Lauren was well aware that she was not going to get a full night's sleep. Not with her thoughts going at a thousand miles per hour.

Why did Apollo let his Oracle include a _human_ for a quest? Was Barton going to play a key role in something? Was he somehow going to be able to use the bane and kill Orion himself? Or had he just been included because the prophecy needed two people? Two people so that, in the end, one would have to learn to trust the other in order to see the bane itself?

As Lauren's thoughts strayed, the hours ticked by, and she found herself falling asleep. The first signs of the morning sun were already showing outside the windows when her eyelids drooped closed, dragging her into a half-sleep.

 _ **"The tree…"**_

 _ **"Look for Anegnoro…"**_

Lauren's eyes shot open.

She calmed herself, took slow, deep breaths, staring at the ceiling.

Glancing around, she found that none of the other Hunters were even awake yet. She regarded the light streaming into the cabin and guessed that she had only been asleep for one or two hours. And yet, she felt so invigorated and refreshed. It was a good sign, or, at least, she hoped that it was.

She stretched, and made as little noise as possible while climbing down her bunk bed. She grabbed a fresh pair of clothes from the cabinet (which was always stocked) and entered the bathroom. After taking a shower and brushing her teeth, she exited the cabin, feeling as energized as a stallion in his prime.

Her mood was sorely depleted when she found Agent Barton sitting in the Mess Hall, eating breakfast.

She walked by him, not saying anything, and grabbed a plate, a spoon and a fork, before serving herself to the breakfast that had been cooked. She took a seat at the still-empty Artemis table.

She'd been hoping that he wouldn't say anything, but then he heard him shift in his seat, and felt his eyes on her. "Morning," she heard him say.

Sighing in agitation, she said nothing in reply, only continued spooning down her food.

"Stark's gonna pick us up in a few hours," he continued. "Fury has a hotel picked out for us in Greece, topnotch… unless you planned on camping out in the forest, of course."

Lauren supposed it was best they not sleep out in the open. With what her dreams had portrayed so clearly, the bane would not attack in the city.

"I sincerely hope this hotel is in Athens," she said.

"It is."

"Good."

The rest of their breakfast was eaten in silence. Slightly thankful—but not enough that she would show it—Lauren said, "I will inform you of what happened yesterday, on the way to Athens."

She stood up and walked away.

For a long time coming, she had known that her alliance with the archer was going to be a grudging one. But it was only then that she realized just how complicated it was going to be, considering that she needed to gain his trust and, in return, give hers.

* * *

The entire camp was there to escort Lauren and Barton onto the Stark jet—Chiron at the front of the crowd, Ethan beside him, and the Hunters behind them. Barton said nothing and entered the Stark jet right away, but not before he was pulled away by Chiron.

While they spoke in low tones, Lauren pulled Jill aside and immediately started rambling out orders:

"You'll be in charge again, while I am gone."

"Yes."

"It was not my intention to do so, but the boy Ethan must stay here. You must watch over him as well."

"Yes."

"I have plenty of drachmas with me, and I will send you Iris messages every night—updating you as you will me."

"Yes."

Lauren stared at the girl long and hard before saying in a much gentler voice, "You understand that this quest will have us separated longer than we were when I was stuck in New York, right?"

Jill nodded her head vigorously. "Of course."

Hearing that the rigidness had still not disappeared from her voice, Lauren let her eyes soften. She unhooked the calling horn from her belt and handed it to her, before pulling the younger Hunter into a hug.

For a moment, it was not returned. But eventually, Lauren had to peel herself away from Jill's strong arms in order to turn to Chiron, who had released Barton and now had his eyes set on her.

"I will be sending Iris messages every night, seeing that the camp and Ethan are safe," she told him.

The centaur nodded, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. A sort of urgent flame crept into his eyes, and Lauren pursed her lips.

"Do not fail, Lauren," he said.

It was exactly how she'd expected his farewell to go. Lauren nodded, and glanced downwards to meet Ethan's wide eyes. She waited for him to say what he wanted to say, which she rarely did with anyone. But she figured that she owed him that much, after everything that they'd gone through.

He opened and closed his mouth repeatedly for a few moments, looking like a fish out of water. Lauren was just about to turn away when he suddenly enveloped her in a hug.

"Don't die," he muttered.

She closed her eyes in irritation, pursed her lips to keep from shouting.

When a respectable amount of time had passed, she removed herself from his embrace and gave him a stern look. Then, she turned around and walked onto the Stark jet.

She sat on the same seat she had the first time she'd ridden it, slipping her bow and quiver off her back as the vaguely familiar hum of the engine made itself known to her feet. She caught a final glimpse of the camp counselors standing outside the jet—her Hunters, Chiron and Ethan, Rachel Dare.

Then, the hangar doors closed, and their faces were lost from her view.

Stark's voice came from the cockpit, "Expected arrival in Athens: five hours. Might as well make yourselves comfortable, guys. It's a more-or-less situation—"

"Just keep the heaters on outside, will you?" Lauren interjected.

"As lively as ever, I see," he muttered in reply, but nevertheless flipped a switch on.

She began recounting the details of everything that had happened and had been spoken of the day before. Stark barely closed his mouth. He kept interrupting her to ask questions.

Not five minutes into her narration did she finally snap, "Hold your questions until _after_ I'm done, will you?" When he, surprisingly, quieted down, she forced a softer exterior and said in a calmer voice, "I want this Quest to go as smoothly as possible, and that can't happen if both of you keep _pushing_ me. Remember that. I won't repeat it again."

She kept her eyes on Tony, who smirked lightly, but otherwise said nothing more. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Barton staring at her. Unfazed, she resumed with her narration.

Once she was finished, they were all quiet for a minute. An uncomfortable silence. When Tony next spoke, he spoke to Barton.

"You're gonna want to call in at S.H.I.E.L.D.," he said. "Relay the extra deets."

The archer sighed, taking out a mobile device from his bag. "I'll have to do this while we're in Athens too, huh?"

Tony answered with a teasing affirmative, and Barton groaned in frustration before pressing a button on the device. Lauren listened to everything impassively, gazing out the window.

Her ears perked up at the sound of light static that seemed to be coming from Barton's device, which was then followed by the sound of a woman's voice. It was muffled, but Lauren was able to comprehend enough.

For the next five minutes or so, Barton spoke into the device, repeating everything that Lauren had said to the people on the other end.

She felt uncomfortable, listening to him speaking about things that had been kept secret for as long as she could remember,. It made her feel violated, but she knew she had to get used to it if they were going to ally with a human government to take down the enemy.

Gaining perspective on the situation made it no easier for her to _respect_ Director Fury's choice, but she came to accept it.

After a while, the air inside the jet became less tense. Lauren relaxed a bit on her seat and looked around.

The outside of the jet was sleek, but it was much larger than it looked. Lauren and Barton sat on a semi-circular cushion in front of a large television, currently turned off so the screen was pitch black. She had only ever seen one television in her life, and it was the one Chiron owned at Camp Half-Blood. This one looked to be a completely different model; Chiron's was thicker, grey, and had antennas sticking out of the top.

To her left was a table stacked with bottles of alcohol and a pile of trays. Beneath that was a second surface, holding a dozen empty glasses and goblets. Beside the table was a small fridge; Lauren opened it and found stocks of canned soda, iced tea, juice, and bottles of water.

After a moment's hesitation, she poured a glass of iced tea for herself and returned to her seat a few ways away from Barton. She noticed him give her a sideways glance, but he said nothing.

Sometime afterwards, Barton stood up and walked to the television.

From what Lauren had first thought to be a _solid_ wall, a faint rectangular outline appeared; Barton tapped it and it opened up like a drawer, revealing a deep tray.

He pulled out a thin square case. There was a label on it, as well as a picture, but Lauren couldn't read it quickly enough due to her dyslexia.

She figured that Thor hadn't told them about the disorder's demigods were born with, considering that it wasn't a very widely-known fact and that it wasn't very important anyway. She stared at the thin square case and tried not to frown, not wanting to reveal to the men that she was dyslexic, at least not yet.

In the end, her curiosity won out and she inquired softly, "What is that?"

Barton looked over to her, confused, and then raised the case. "This?" She nodded. "It's a movie."

She continued staring at it, wondering how a movie could have been stored into something so thin. "So a videotape, then."

"What? No, it's a… it's a DVD." He frowned. "You know what a DVD is, right?" Lauren kept his gaze for a while longer before looking away, keeping her expression blank. It didn't work. Barton continued, "So you have no idea what a DVD is?"

Reluctantly, she gave a swift jerk of her head as reply.

The agent let out a long sigh before opening the case. Inside was a small round thing, no larger than her hand, and just a bit thicker than paper. In the middle of it was a hole with what looked to be clear white tape stuck around it. Light from the bulbs bounced off the surface of the peculiar object, coloring it in thick lines.

Lauren watched as another tray was pulled out of the wall, at the top right of the television. It was thinner than where Barton had gotten the DVD.

Barton placed the circular object into the tray and it receded back into the wall. The outline of it was more visible, now that Lauren knew it existed. He got the remote control from off the drinks table and turned the television on.

The jet was then filled with the loud sounds of an orchestra playing. Lauren flinched slightly.

On the screen of the television now was an image depicting a building of some sort, with spotlights flashing on it. Behind was a purple sky. Words had been carved onto the building, and Lauren struggled to comprehend their meaning.

"20th CENTURY FOX," it said.

The moving image disappeared and was replaced by another—words that were colored a shimmering grey, outlined with green: LUCASFILM

The music stopped abruptly, and the screen returned to pitch black. Seconds afterwards, more text came onto the screen, and she became fairly sure that it was a real sentence now.

Suddenly, even louder music blasted from the television. Lauren nearly spilt her drink, cursing loudly. And though it had been in Greek, she heard Stark's laughter cascading down from the cockpit. Beside her, Barton chuckled lightly.

She fixed him a cold glare until the smirk disappeared from his face, at which time, she hissed, "What is it?"

He looked astonished as he pointed at the television. "That?"

"Yes."

"It's Star Wars: Return of the Jedi." After another lighter round of chuckling, he shook his head at her, turning down the volume of the movie. "First you tell me you don't know what a DVD is, and then you don't know what _Star Wars_ is—no clue. I'm sure the kids back at your camp have heard of it, so why not you?"

"I haven't had the same _luxury_ as them as to laze around all day and watch movies," she replied sharply. "The Hunters of Artemis are not known to stay inside populated towns or cities. We live in the wild, with our tents, sometimes hunting animals and, sometimes, also hunting _with_ them. Do you think we'd bring such useless gadgets with us?"

Barton stared at her for a long moment. "Exactly how long have you been with Artemis?" he then asked. "Thor told us that once someone joins you guys, they stop aging. Is that true?"

"It is."

"So how long have you been… like this?"

He gestured to her whole body, and she scowled derisively. "Why should I answer to you?"

"Kid, just tell us, will you?" Stark's voice cut in from the cockpit. "We're just trying to make polite conversation. Nothing personal."

Lauren allowed herself to simmer for a moment, glaring at the two, before straightening her back and answering in a calm voice, "I was born in the June of 1972. I joined Artemis when I was 17… in 1989, if my math is correct."

Barton's eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets. "And you've looked like a seventeen year-old ever since?" he asked in disbelief.

"I may look young, but I am very old and very wise in my thoughts."

From the cockpit, she heard Stark whistle softly. "So you're—what?—Thirty years old? Forty?"

She smiled slightly. "Forty-one."

"Damn," said Barton, turning to glance at the back of Stark's head. "Tony, she's just two years younger than you!"

"Yeah, and only a year younger than _you_ ," the billionaire replied. "That is wrong in so many ways."

Judging from how his voice had dropped an octave, Lauren discerned that he was, indeed, disturbed by the newly-found information.

But she wouldn't let them be the only ones asking the questions.

Easing a hard tone into her voice, she said, "When we first met, you barely gave me any personal information about yourself. Will you now?"

"You still remember that?" Barton scoffed lightly. "Fine. I was born on a Thursday, January 7, 1971. My family has a… I lived on a farm—during my childhood." He cleared his throat, and it was obvious that he was hiding something. Lauren decided not to push him; she felt the same about sharing her secrets as well, anyway.

"Found out I was a good shot," he continued. "With a rifle first, and then I discovered my dad's archery set. It was love at first sight. Fury only honed my skill set and I've been using it ever since."

"What did your parents think about you joining S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

He sighed. "Nothing. They died before I got on my first mission."

"You have my condolences," she said smoothly. He nodded once. His answer did not surprise her in the slightest. Death was an inevitable fate, the hard truth found at the end of the hard road of life. "How did they pass?"

"Car crash."

"Ah." It was one of the reasons why Lauren very rarely trusted the safety of riding vehicles such as cars, planes, or trains. She might still trust the safety of a boat, but it depended on who built the vessel.

Barton waved his hand nonchalantly. "It's fine. Happened such a long time ago I've almost forgotten all about it. Hey, now ask Tony what happened to _his_ parents. Go on."

Lauren narrowed her eyes, suspicious of the excited tone that had edged into the man's voice.

"I heard that!" Tony said. "Christ, Barton, I thought you were an assassin. You can't even whisper properly." Barton only shrugged. "Anyway, my folks died in a car crash too, but this one was orchestrated by HYDRA, see—so really, it wasn't an accident at all."

A frown made its way onto Lauren's face. "HYDRA?"

"It's this Nazi terrorist-military organization, bent on world domination and the like. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s been butting heads with them for a while, but it's nothing you Olympian demigods have to worry about. I'm sure you have your own problems to deal with—like monsters and evil gods, am I right?"

"Very right." Nevertheless, the info troubled Lauren, and she found herself frowning down at her drink. The condensation of it stuck to her fingers and made them numb from the cold. She wiped them dry on her jacket.

"So what about you?" Barton suddenly said. "I get that one of your parents was a god or something, but the other one's still mortal, right? Considering how old you are, I'm guessing they aren't exactly drinking rum in the Caribbean right now."

"My mother bore me when she was very young—younger than when most women decide to have a child," said Lauren. "The last time I visited her was ten years ago. As far as I know, she is still alive."

"And she just _let_ you run off to join the Hunters?"

She nodded. "My mother was a strong woman—witty, feisty, beautiful, and as skilled with the bow as I am now. These are the main reasons why she caught the eye of my father… my _godly_ parent, so to speak."

"Who's your godly parent?" Stark asked as he tilted the steering wheel ever so slightly.

"Apollo," she replied, quite reluctantly.

A hint of surprise flickered across Barton's face. "The same as the kid's?" In this, she knew that he spoke of Ethan, and therefore gave a single nod. He exhaled loudly. "God, that's so weird… Isn't Artemis Apollo's brother or something?"

"They are twins, yes."

"So she's technically your aunt."

Lauren's lips curved into a small frown. "Even if Apollo had not been my father, I would still see Artemis as family," she said defensively. "She's no less than a mother to us Hunters—the label of _aunt_ would never prove her justice."

From the corner of her eye, she saw Tony glance back at them.

"I didn't mean to offend," said Barton in a quiet voice.

Chastising herself, Lauren nodded at him briefly and took a sip from her drink. "I know."

No one said anything for a while, after that. Lauren shifted into a more comfortable position on the couch and stared at the television, trying to make sense of the story despite the minutes she had missed whilst talking with Barton and Stark.

It was fictional, for all she knew, but even Artemis herself had spoken of other beings in distant planets. With everything she had seen in her lifetime, aliens and the invention of laser-swords would barely come as a surprise to her.

The movie had ended when Tony spoke up from the cockpit. "Two hours and a half left, guys. You sure you don't wanna catch some sleep?"

"We can sleep once we get to the hotel," replied Barton.

"Yeah, whatever," they heard Stark grumble.

He flipped a switch and pulled his hands away from the steering wheel. Lauren startled, clutching the armrest as she prepared for the plane to veer sideways, but nothing happened.

"Relax, it's on auto-pilot," said Tony, walking down the short hallway and into the television room, where he collapsed onto one of the couches connected to the wall. "Take over for me, will you, Legolas? Wake me up when we're almost there."

Barton grunted in response and then jabbed his leg. Stark retorted with a hard slap at Barton's elbow, grabbed him, and then pushed him away. Barton stumbled away, chuckling loudly.

Stark groaned. "Ass."

Lauren eyed the two curiously, feeling a laugh start in her throat. She quickly stopped it, and downed the remaining iced tea in her glass. She huddled deeper into the cushion, watching as Barton placed a different "disk" into the "DVD player". Soon, the "sequel" of Star Wars was playing on the screen, and she took in its cinematography with observant eyes, though her mind often wandered.

She refused to become accustomed to being with men. But despite herself, a lone thought entered her mind, betraying just what she felt at that moment:

 _It's not a bad start._

* * *

 **There's action in the next chapter, so make sure to stick around. ;)**


	14. Chapter 13 - Storm

_I steel my gut, plant my foot, and push upwards off the ground. I see the creature in full view._

 _Its broad back and tail are shielded with some kind of scaly armor, as well as its eight, clawed legs. Its stinger has the same color and shape of an almost-ripe pomegranate, but much, much larger—perhaps the size of my own head. Looking at everything else, I realize that it is the only part of its body that is not shielded by armor._

 **A tall tree stands before her, its roots buried beneath white ground.**

 _The monster is ten feet away when I let my arrow fly._

 _A sharp clicking sound and it scrapes past the monster's tail._

 _"No…" I realize that the creature had angled its tail only an inch downward, narrowly avoiding my arrow._

 _I've been staring at it for a moment too long. I whirl around and make a move to jump back onto the ground, but the creature snaps at the trunk of the tree and I fall with it._

 _Upon impacting the ground, searing pain shoots up my stomach, making my breath hitch in my throat. Through the snow billowing about from the skirmish, I see one of the branches has fallen on top of me._

 **Its trunk depicts its massive branches swirling together to form a single stem, and it is as wide as two fully grown men.**

 _"ARTEMIS!" I scream. "ARTEMIS, PLEASE! PHOEBE! ADA! LENORE! HAYLEY—"_

 **She looks up and finds that the branches have been stripped bare, because of the winter. The few leaves that remained are brown, its toothed edges shriveled.**

 _The creature appears behind the thinning cloud of snow, its pincers clicking menacingly as it approaches me. Its tail bends backward first, and I know what comes after. Several drops of yellow liquid oozes out of its stinger and falls onto the branch, where it starts eating away at the bark._

 _"Gods above," I plead, closing my eyes. "Please… HELP ME!"_

 **"Lauren…"**

 _Venom drips from the tip of the creature's tail and falls onto the material above my sternum. I register a hissing sound, and steam is just floating into my line of vision when I feel the overwhelming sense of pain. I scream._

 **"Anegnoro."**

 _Time slows down. The monster pulls its tail back before it starts descending, aimed right at my chest. I close my eyes tighter and wait for death._

 **"Look for Anegnoro…—"**

* * *

"WAKE UP!"

Lauren's eyes snapped open at the feeling of the plane lurching sideways beneath her. She shot to her feet, only to have to grab the sofa arm to keep from falling over.

Beside her, Barton regained his footing quicker and strode to the cockpit. "What's happening?" he demanded.

"A storm just came in out of nowhere," replied Stark, shouting to be heard above the continuous beeping sounds that came from the panel. "Lauren, you think Zeus is ticked off or something?"

Lauren got to her feet and rushed into the cockpit, where she was able to get a full view of the storm raging outside. Above and ahead of them were large storm clouds, menacingly dark, completely blocking out any trace of the sun. The clouds were blacker than they should have been, which gave Lauren the hint she needed.

Lightning flashed in the distance, and just as the low rumbling reached them, a smoky form flew in front of the plane.

There was an ear-piercing screech as the glint of a blade caught Lauren's eye, and then a large scratch appeared on the glass of the window. Stark flinched and reeled back, surprised.

" _Di immortales_ ," Lauren cursed.

"What is it?" asked Barton.

"This is no storm. We are being attacked."

"By?"

" _Venti_ ," she quickly explained. "The monsters that attacked Ethan and I while we were heading for New York." She returned to the back and strung her bow, slipping her quiver over her shoulder. It would be difficult to kill the spirits without a sword, and even more difficult to engage with them in combat, but she still had her hunting knife.

She only hoped that there weren't a lot of them.

"Stark, is there a way I can get to the roof?" she asked.

He pressed a button and a small door slid open in the ceiling, revealing the darkness outside. Strong wind immediately gushed into the jet, threatening to push her off her feet.

Several human figures—and some shaped like horses—billowed back and forth, as if taunting Lauren. As she stared, moisture gathered on the outer surface of the jet and flew onto her face. She would be hard-pressed to keep from falling off, but the _venti_ had to be dealt with before they did any permanent damage to the jet.

"Are the heaters still working?" she called.

"Yeah, they're on max right now," said Stark. "So far, I don't think the spirits have actually done anything."

Just as he said this, the plane rocked violently, and several objects fell to the floor. The lights flickered on and off.

Tony pursed his lips. "Too soon?"

"Stay here, Stark. Make sure we do not veer off course and that the heaters dry off as much of the moisture on the roof as they can. I will deal with the _venti_."

Lauren bent her knees and planted her feet, preparing to jump and heave herself onto the jet's surface outside. But then Barton stepped up to her, saying, "You can't deal with them on your own. Let me help."

"Your weapons would do no good."

He bent down and rummaged through his pack. A few seconds later, he pulled out a sword sheathed in leather. A hilt peeked out of it, and when he pulled, Lauren saw that the blade was made of celestial bronze.

She eyed it with interest. "Where did you get this?"

"Chiron gave it to me before we left."

"Why did you not tell me of it earlier?" Barton shrugged. Lauren regarded him for a long moment. "Do you know how to use it?"

"Like I said, I have an impressive skill set."

His confidence was admirable, if not utterly irritating.

"Then use it," she told him. "And whatever you do, don't drop it."

A crack of lightning registered in her ears. She leapt off the floor, bringing her arms up and planting them onto either sides of the ceiling's access door. With a great heave, she pulled herself out of the jet and got her feet underneath her.

Her eyes narrowed into slits as she tried to see past the thick gloom, so much so that she nearly missed the _ventus_ that was charging at her.

This one was in the shape of a horse. Its mane cackled with electricity, the same as its eyes.

Lauren sidestepped it, pulling her arms back to keep them from grazing the _ventus_ ' billowing form. The spirit charged past her, missing her stomach by barely an inch, and skidded to a stop only a few ways away.

As it was turning, Lauren quickly drew her bow and released an arrow that shot straight into its chest. The _ventus_ was not able to fly away before disintegrating into golden powder.

She whirled around and released another arrow, this time hitting a _ventus_ that was in the shape of a boy. Her arrow met its mark.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Barton pull himself onto the surface, brandishing the sword almost effortlessly.

She raised her eyes and saw dark pillars of smoke billowing down from the clouds above. There were at least ten of them. They moved quickly, getting from one point to another in the blink of an eye. Lauren quickly loosed an arrow, but it only whizzed past its mark.

The pillars grew closer, and she saw that almost half of them had hooves and manes. The _venti_ in human forms glided through the air with their smoky wings, swords of darkness and lightning in their hands.

After a moment of thought, Lauren discarded her bow and unsheathed her hunting knife.

The _venti_ were upon them in seconds, having to solidify completely in order for their weapons to work. Lauren parried one's strike at her hip and then brought her blade up again to block another's blow for her head. She pushed the electrified blade away and then stabbed the _ventus_ in the heart.

She slid to her knees and spun, swiping at a _ventus_ ' leg before dispatching with it in a similar way. What felt like a bucket of powder was blown at her face by a strong gust of wind, rendering her blind for a few seconds.

She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her eyes, and barely evaded a _ventus_ ' overhead blow. She parried a second strike and steeled her legs, spinning on her knees to come to stand behind the storm spirit.

As she got her feet back beneath her, she thrust her knife into its chest. It disintegrated and yet again covered her face in golden powder.

To her right, she saw Barton battling fiercely with two _venti_ at the same time. His reflexes were commendable, but the sword still didn't look natural in his hands.

Lauren killed another boy- _ventus_ by swiping her knife across its neck, and then another by whirling around, therefore dodging its blow, and cutting its smoky form into half.

Suddenly a horse- _ventus_ appeared in front of her and reared, flourishing its hooves and nicking her cheek. She reeled back, feeling blood start pouring from the cut. She stabbed at it, but it reared again and, this time, pushed its hooves against her chest.

The air was knocked out of her lungs and her vision dimmed for a moment. She gasped for air.

The _ventus_ loomed above her. Electricity lit its dark legs, travelling to its hooves, which it raised, almost threateningly.

Huffing, Lauren brought her knife up and swiped it at the _ventus_ ' leg. The electricity disappeared from its hooves and travelled into her knife. Searing pain started at her palm and smoke curled from the skin there.

She yelled in surprise and pain, dropping the knife as the _ventus_ whinnied loudly, turning into smoke and flying off somewhere else. Sweat poured out from the pores in her skin, coating her palm. The veins in her right wrist throbbed painfully.

Breathing heavily, she shook the numbness out of her hand and picked up her knife again, after making sure it was no longer laced with electricity. She turned her head just in time to see Barton kill the last boy- _ventus_ , as well as one of the horse spirits.

Lauren sprung forward and engaged in battle with another _ventus_ , watching as it nickered and its chest beamed with unspoken electricity.

Thinking better of herself, she first swiped at its face, making it back up in caution. She got on one knee and swung her blade towards its forelegs, purposefully slowing her actions.

It reared and stretched one leg, almost succeeding in pounding its hoof against her head.

She dodged just in time and then buried her knife in its chest, tugging downwards to continue cutting until its stomach.

As she was recovering from the attack, the low rumbling of thunder registered in her ears. But it wasn't coming from above her.

She turned and saw Barton engaged in battle with a large boy- _ventus_. The remaining horses must have merged together, because the _ventus_ in front of Barton towered several feet over him.

It raised its sword and swung downwards. Barton dove to the side and landed on his feet, slipping a bit. A menacing smirk appeared on the _ventus_ ' face.

Tendrils of lightning started at its arm, travelling to its sword hilt and down the tip of the blade, which was an inch embedded in the roof of the plane.

"No!"

The hairs on the back of Lauren's came to stand and she charged at the _ventus_. She planted a foot on the base of its sword, pushed off and stabbed its heart. Her momentum had been stronger than she'd planned, apparently, for the _ventus_ fell backwards at first before disintegrating.

The solid body sheathing her knife was gone, so she fell. She landed on her stomach, wheezing as the wind was knocked out of her once again.

As she struggled to get back on her feet, Barton walked up to her and offered a hand. She regarded it warily, and did not accept it.

When she had finally gotten onto shaky feet, she caught signs of movement from over Barton's shoulder.

She squinted, not seeing the usual pillars of smoke and lightning, but instead, birds—small at first, and then getting larger and larger as the seconds passed, until one of them, the one at the head, became as big as a chariot—

Lauren shoved Barton away from her and dove to the left.

The bird's beak came incredibly close to her face as it snapped closed. She felt a sharp pinch at the top of her right ear before she realized she could not stop herself from sliding all the way to the front of the plane.

Her momentum carried her until she found herself sitting on the nose of the jet, her back to the window.

Above her, the giant bird circled the jet along with its flock of smaller ones, like vultures. Their wings, talons and beaks glistened bronze—celestial bronze.

Suddenly, Barton slid down to kneel by her, staring up at the birds as well. "What are they?" he said, hefting up his sword.

"Stymphalian Birds," she replied, looking at them both in awe and fear. "They should not be here, not with a horde of _venti_ so close… Go inside and tell Stark to play the loudest, noisiest music that he can. And get your bow. I will hold them off."

She was already climbing back up to the roof of the jet when she noticed Tony tapping on the window of the glass, a look of frustrated confusion on his face.

Lauren pointed at Barton, and then to the access door. "Go!"

He followed her back up to the roof. Above them, a metallic squawk escaped the largest bird. It pulled its wings against its body and dove towards Lauren. The rest of the flock trailed behind, cutting through the air like they were bound together.

Lauren steeled herself and tightened her grip on her knife, just as Barton slipped down the access door.

The largest bird was on her in a second.

It opened its beak and let out a deafening caw, jarring Lauren to the bone. She brought her knife up and slashed at its wingtip. The two celestial bronze objects met with a _clang_.

The bird passed her, but then the flock came upon her in two's, separating at either sides of her head. Perhaps they knew she only had one weapon.

Despite what several books said, monsters were more intelligent than they seemed. It was a hard truth most demigods learned at a young age, and in this, Lauren was included.

Their feathers seemed to have been forged by Hephaestus himself, stuck onto their bodies with an adhesive that enabled the birds to discard them easily and throw them like knives.

Even from afar, the Stymphalian Birds were difficult to kill; up close, when they were attacking with their talons and beaks of bronze, and when their only weak spots were their bellies, Lauren was immediately hard-pressed to get out of the defensive. Before she knew it, they had surrounded her and were attacking from all sides.

As she whirled around to try and relieve her flank from the onslaught of claws and beaks, she suddenly became aware of exactly how much damage her legs were taking. She felt the sharp pinpricks of pain as blood gushed out of the many cuts and gashes there.

She thrust her knife here and there, pushing her body to the limit as she twisted left and right, stretching and retracting in a flurry of both defense and offense. In only the course of a few seconds, she felled many of the creatures until only little more than half of them remained.

Suddenly, Lauren felt a quaking beneath her feet. And then music—the kind the children of Ares would listen to—reached her ears, deafeningly loud, and coming from directly below her.

Almost immediately, the Stymphalian Birds halted in their onslaught and pulled away. Lauren killed two in quick succession before sheathing her knife and equipping her bow.

Blinking away the monster-dust from her eyes, she took aim and released arrow after arrow.

She was able to slay a majority of the creatures, but a few still managed to escape. She didn't think it wise to stray from the Quest, and so she told Stark not to follow them.

With a limp, she re-entered the jet, grimacing slightly when her legs took on the impact of the fall. She caught sight of her pack at the far end of the jet, and she began walking towards it.

"What the hell were those things?" Stark demanded, his voice echoing from within the cockpit.

"The birds?" said Lauren.

"Yes, the birds! They looked mechanical; I could see that from here. And how did you know AC/DC would scare them away?"

Lauren dropped onto the cushion, frowning in confusion. She didn't what "AC/DC" was, so she could only assume that it was some kind of human term for the music he had played—and was still playing.

After ordering him to stop the music, she rummaged through her pack and explained. "Those were Stymphalian Birds. Their feathers, beaks and talons are as hard as celestial bronze, but they are not machines. When Hercules was asked to drive them away as his sixth labor, he struck a bronze bell Athena had given him, and the sound was loud enough to drive the birds away. I suspected loud music would work the same way."

She pulled out her small bundle of ambrosia, which she had carefully wrapped in leather beforehand.

As she was pulling away the strips, Barton said, "Do you usually take hints from myths?"

"All of the stories you may have heard, as well as the ones you haven't—they are all true… albeit a bit alterred over the years."

Lauren tore out a small chunk of ambrosia and placed it on her tongue. The smoky taste of roasted boar filled her mouth, and she felt the cuts on her legs stitch back together. Because the ambrosia had only been enough to close her wounds and stop the blessing, the scars remained, along with the tinges of pain every now and again.

Over her shoulder, Barton stared as the bloody skin repaired itself.

"What is that stuff?" he asked.

"Ambrosia, the food of the gods," she replied. "It can heal almost anything."

"What's it taste like?" Stark said.

"More often than not, you'll find it tastes like your favorite dish—your comfort food."

The smirk was obvious in his voice when he continued, "So, for example, if I was feeling _particularly_ horny, it would taste like—"

"Shut it, Tony," said Barton, though he did not seem to care much.

Scowling, Lauren rewrapped the ambrosia and returned it to her pack, before pulling out a new pair of jeans.

Barton tilted his head. "We'll have to buy more clothes when we can. Tomorrow, maybe."

"We won't be there for long," Lauren muttered in reply, one foot already in the bathroom.

" _Here_ , you mean," said Stark. Lauren looked at him in confusion as he reached above his head to flip a switch. "Katniss, Legolas, welcome to Athens."


	15. Chapter 14 - Greece

**Italicised texts are either flashbacks, dreams, points of emphasis, or things that are said in Greek. For example:**

 **1\. The dreams that Lauren has about the scorpion are in italics, because they're not happening in real life.**

 **2\. The first few REAL texts in this chapter are in italics, because they're sort of reminders on what happened in the last moments of the previous chapter.**

 **3\. "I _really_ don't like you." - the word REALLY is italicised because it emphasizes the fact that someone really dislikes a person.**

 **4. _"The pretty girl's name is Lauren Brooks."_ \- the whole text is italicised because the whole thing is said in Greek.**

 **I know it might be a bit confusing, so don't hesitate to ask me about it in the comments section. I'll try to explain better than I did here. Hahahaha**

 **Without further ado, here is Chapter 14. :)**

* * *

 _Barton tilted his head. "We'll have to buy more clothes when we can. Tomorrow, maybe."_

 _"We won't be there for long," Lauren muttered in reply, one foot already in the bathroom._

 _"_ Here _, you mean," said Stark. Lauren looked at him in confusion as he reached above his head to flip a switch. "Katniss, Legolas, welcome to Athens."_

Who was he referring to as _Katniss_? As far as she knew, Katniss was an aquatic plant, not a person. Who would name their daughter after a plant anyway? The idea seemed absurd to Lauren, but judging by the look Agent Barton was giving her, Stark must have been jesting.

Nodding slightly—and somewhat subconsciously—she entered the bathroom and closed the door behind her, locking it. She shed her ruined pants and donned the new pair. She looked herself over in the mirror.

Her parka had several scratches on it, accompanied by dark spots that may have been her blood. Her hair was a mess, and so she took to fixing it, finishing within a minute or two. She noticed that the humming of the jet's engine had become less evident beneath her feet. With a sigh, she gave herself one last onceover before walking out of the bathroom.

"Just in time," said Stark. "We're landing."

She opened her mouth, a reply already on her tongue, when Barton suddenly stepped up to her, holding a dark case of some sort. Behind him, on the cushion, was a similar case, and inside lay his bow and quiver. Skeptic, Lauren raised an eyebrow.

"I'm pretty sure I got your size right," said Barton, his own questioning lilt in his voice. "You don't plan on lugging that bow around in plain sight, do you?"

"Actually…" Lauren thought about it for a moment. She supposed his was a better idea, if they were to remain subtle. With the plan she had in mind, it would be best if no one saw their weapons.

"Fine," she grudgingly replied. "But how do we hide the sword?"

He stared at it with a frown. "Do we have to bring it?"

"Unless you expect me to protect you every time a monster attacks us, yes, we have to bring it."

"Wait, wait—what do you mean 'every time'?" Tony cut in, glancing over his shoulder at them. "There's gonna be more of those bird things?"

Lauren nodded, watching Barton strap the sword sheath onto his belt. "More, and there will be worse attacks." At the expectant gazes of the men, she regarded them like one would a child—which, in her opinion, they were. "Monsters are drawn by a demigod's scent. Now me, being a demigod within a city of humans, my scent will be slightly masked—but we're in _Greece,_ the city of the gods. There is still a very large possibility of an attack."

"What about the humans in the area? Won't the monsters attack them?" said Barton.

"Monsters only attack humans if they want to, and they rarely do. As for what the mortals will see, the Mist will take care of that. The both of you have been worked on by Hazel already, so the Mist won't be offering you any trouble. Although, now that we mention it, there is still the slight problem about S.H.I.E.L.D. not being able to see through the Mist… As much as I hate to say it, they need to be blessed by Hazel as well."

Not missing a beat, Barton replied, "We're only sending a handful of our people anyway. Tony can fly them over to the Camp."

Lauren nodded. "Our main objective now is to find the bane within the remaining seven nights. The sooner we finish with that, the sooner we can leave, and the safer the citizens will be."

A somewhat smug smile eased onto Tony's face. He turned his gaze to Barton. "See, Legolas? She's got it all under control."

She narrowed her eyes at the mocking tone in his voice and sent him a death glare she knew would scare even Chiron. The billionaire cringed visibly before pushing a button on the panel in front of him, saying, "Prepare for landing," his voice a bit shaky.

* * *

"You need to leave."

"Sorry?"

Lauren looked up from her pack, which she had been looking through to make sure everything they needed was there, and gave the billionaire a blank look. "I did not think you to have grisly hearing, Mr. Stark."

He looked amused. "I don't, Miss Sassy Pants. I just didn't catch what you said."

She ignored his obvious jab and shouldered her pack, looking away from him. "I said that you need to leave. You're not supposed to be here. The prophecy stated that only a Hunter of Artemis and an archer of Earth can partake in the Quest. It said nothing about tin men."

"Legolas, come on! Are you hearing this?" Stark placed a hand over his chest and threw his head back in mock hurt. "Don't I at least get a thank you for flying you guys all the way here?"

"Your help is appreciated, and rest assured, we will be calling on you again. But believe it or not, you being here is dangerous… not so much for us as for you," she added after a moment, allowing herself a bit of satisfaction when she saw fear flash in his eyes. "In fact, I'm quite surprised nothing fatally dangerous has happened to you yet."

"You mean except for those storm monsters and evil bird thingies that just did a _number_ on my plane? Thanks for that by the way, probably gonna take me a week to fix everything... well, not really, most likely a day or two—"

Barton sighed loudly to shut him up. "Stark, honestly, if she says it's dangerous, then it's dangerous. After what just happened, I'm not in a very questioning mood. I'm just up for a good night's sleep."

"Agreed," said Lauren, regarding the archer for a brief moment—only flickering her eyes his way, not long enough for him to notice—before facing Stark again. "Leave. Now."

He grinned. "What's the magic word?"

"Tony," Barton said warningly.

Lauren eased a more professional tone into her voice, one that suggested it was best not to question her. "The Fates won't appreciate your rebelliousness, Mr. Stark, and believe me when I say that they are much more unforgiving than me."

Stark shifted on his feet slightly, regarding her, for the first time, with serious eyes. Without looking away, though pointing his words at someone else, he said, "Catch you later, Hawk."

Agent Barton grunted in reply and then started pushing him back into the jet. Lauren watched it all with cool eyes, subtly fingering the strap of her pack. The jet's hatch closed and the engine hummed to life.

A few seconds later, hot air wafted from the machine, melting off the snow that had accumulated, and then the wheels pulled off of the ground. Lauren stepped back as the jet floated up into a respectable height. It turned the other way and started the flight back to America.

The civilians that had swarmed towards the area (most likely because they recognized the word "Stark" on the jet) relaxed a bit. Those who had been slack jawed at the sight of Tony Stark closed their mouths, blinking rather consciously.

Lauren eyed them all in distaste, scanning the crowd for anyone who stood out, and found none. They all held the features of the average Greek, and it seemed that she and Barton were the only foreigners in the vicinity.

She slipped the second strap of her pack onto her other shoulder and adjusted her grip on the case of her bow, easing a normal expression onto her face so that they wouldn't attract any more attention.

"Come on," she told Barton, "Let's get settled into the hotel before starting the search."

Considering that it was well into December, no one gave her parka, jeans, and combat boots a second glance. It seemed that many in Greece were wearing the same as her, because of the cold and the snow.

But she was well aware of the looks some people were giving her companion. He was wearing casual clothes—a shirt, a thick overcoat, a scarf, jeans, and boots.

Lauren knew that the people merely saw him as a pretty face, for now, but eventually someone was bound to recognize him as one of the Avengers. There wasn't a country in the world that was unfamiliar with that label. She just hoped that there wouldn't be any paparazzi.

Outside of the airport, there was a jeep waiting for them. Nothing fancy, but definitely several qualities higher than the usual car that most people were driving. Lauren warily eyed the automobile, not used to riding in so many vehicles in one day. She was starting to feel the queasiness in her stomach.

Barton had a few words with the driver, talking in low voices, before handing him his luggage. With much reluctance, Lauren did the same and then followed him into the jeep.

The ride was relatively quiet. Any familiarity they had gained from the flight in Tony's jet had all but disappeared due to the new surroundings. Barton kept his head tilted, looking out of the jeep, seemingly never having been to Greece before. Lauren was just as mesmerized by the sights as Barton was, because while Artemis had taken the Hunters to Greece many a time, she had never taken them to walk the streets before.

The buildings looked newly-built and modern, but still held an ancient aura about them that made Lauren's demigod senses tingle.

The streets were still bustling with activity, and so the ride went slow. Their driver seemed to have his hand constantly on the wheel, honking every five seconds or so.

Lauren kept her ears pricked, listening in to the many conversations that were being held all around her. She understood Greek, but more often than not, she found herself getting lost amongst the sea of voices.

She tried to discern any news about disappearances in the woods or anything of the sort, but as far as she could hear, there was nothing.

The driver stopped. It seemed that they'd reached their destination. Her ears perked up of their own accord and she caught wind of a conversation going on between a woman and a shop vender not ten feet away from where she was.

 _"—seen those 'missing' flyers by the docks?"_ the woman was saying.

 _"I don't think so. Last time I was down there was about a week ago. Why, what is missing?"_

 _"Not 'what'. 'Who'. A couple of kids went missing a few days ago at Crete. Went camping, never got back."_

 _"How did the flyers get here if they went missing all the way out in Crete? Did they swim all the way here?"_

 _"Probably just the parents being desperate. You know how it is."_

 _"Oh, like you wouldn't do that if Andreus ever went missing."_

 _"Would I be considered a bad parent if I say no?"_

Lauren was snapped out of her reverie when someone touched her arm. Her head snapped up to see Agent Barton standing outside of the jeep beside her, looking down at her oddly.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head. He didn't seem to buy it, continuing to stare at her. "I will explain later. Let's just get checked in, alright?"

Due to the bite in her tone, he was forced to back off. He turned around and took his luggage from the driver, then gazed expectantly at her to do the same.

She exited the jeep and walked towards them, but not before sparing a glance down the street to where the woman and the shop vender were. By then, the woman was already waving a goodbye. Eventually, she disappeared into the crowd.

Frowning, Lauren took her pack and bow case from the driver, and then followed Agent Barton into the hotel.

The walls were painted a soft teal, with the floor covered in immaculate white tiles. Lauren raised her head and looked at the deep burgundy roof, trying to decide whether the color combination was fitting, or annoying.

The hotel clerk sat behind a wooden desk lined with paperwork and modern pens. He seemed kind enough, but when Barton was speaking with him about reservations, he kept glancing past the agent and looking at Lauren.

The glint in his eyes told her everything she needed to know. She returned his stares with a cold one of her own, pursing her lips into a thin line and crossing her arms.

"If you'd just sign this, Mr…?" He trailed off, placing a guest book in front of Barton and raising an eyebrow.

"Rogers," Clint easily lied.

As he took to signing the guest book, the clerk finally turned his complete attention to Lauren, flashing two rows of pearly white teeth. "And what might your name be, _ómorfo korítsi_?"

Lauren bristled at his use of the Greek language; not because of the statement—for she was sure it might have been flattering to other women—but because of his audacity. It was infuriating to have to deal with the flirting of mortal men.

Deciding to surprise him, while hoping to scare him a bit, she replied in the same language: " _The pretty girl's name is Lauren Brooks._ " She made sure to keep her tone hard, so as to not lead him on to thinking that she was _appreciating_ his attention.

Despite this, it seemed he was not at all fazed, only delighted. "You speak Greek?"

She resisted the urge to slap him and instead turned to Barton, saying, "Done?" He nodded. "Good. What floor are we on?"

"Fourth."

In a lower tone, she told him, "Get me out of here."

He frowned at first, but then his eyes flickered over to the clerk, and he caught on. A smirk appeared on his face. Lauren shot an angry look to him, then to the clerk, before pulling on Barton's sleeve. She steered them towards the elevator.

Once they were inside and alone, with the doors closed, his face broke out into a massive grin. "What was that?"

"I don't like being flirted with," she grumbled, glaring at the floor.

"I noticed that. But you're young and beautiful, and Greece is just filled with desperate teenagers and perverted old men."

"It was not like this twenty years ago."

"A lot can change in twenty years." He raised an eyebrow at her, no doubt noticing her fuming. "You'll have to get used to it."

It wasn't a prospect she was looking forward to. " _Theoí na me voi_ _̱_ _thí_ _̱_ _sei_..." _Gods help me._


	16. Chapter 15 - In Dreams

**Again, sentences in italics are said in Greek. :)**

* * *

Once they had rested up for a bit—Agent Barton promptly lying down for a nap while Lauren took a shower—they went back outside and took a stroll through the town.

Lauren was thankful for the sudden heavy downpour of snow, because it gave her companion a reason to wrap his scarf around his neck and to wear a hat, therefore concealing most of his recognizable features.

She pulled her parka tighter around herself, approaching a fruit stall. She nodded at the vendor, a white-haired old woman, and leaned down to pull a bottle of water out of the cooler.

" _How much?_ " she asked.

" _One euro._ "

Lauren offered a smile and dug into her pocket for one of her drachmas. " _Can you still accept drachmas?_ "

The vendor took the drachma and inspected it slowly. " _This is the antique kind… Where did you get this?_ " Lauren only shrugged, and the woman returned her attention to the coin. " _I suppose I could accept this, just this once._ "

" _Thank you; may the gods watch over you._ "

At the surprised expression on the vendor's face, Lauren forced a blank demeanor onto her face and winked, before walking back to Barton. He raised a questioning eyebrow, she returned the gesture, and he shrugged. They resumed their stroll.

While they were walking down a particularly crowded park, he said, "I didn't know drachmas were still a thing."

"Not in the modern world, no," Lauren replied. "But if you were a demigod and walked into a place run by a god or a goddess, you cannot pay with dollars or euros."

"There are places run by gods?"

"Yes. The rainbow goddess, Iris, runs a franchise called _Rainbow Organic Foods and Lifestyles_."

" _Rainbow Organic Foods and Lifestyles_ …" Barton muttered to himself. "R.O.F.L.?"

"That is its abbreviation… Why?"

The agent suddenly smirked. "I'm not sure if you know, but that acronym means something _entirely_ different to kids these days."

She looked at him from the corner of her eye. "Do I want to know?"

"Probably not."

"Then do not tell me."

They circled that part of the city for an hour or two, only opening their mouths when they were interviewing a civilian. Other than that, they kept their thoughts to themselves.

There were times when Lauren suddenly became anxious, her skin prickling, and she would turn around only to find nothing out of the ordinary. Clint would steal a glance at her, a hint of concern on his face, before quickly masking it and walking ahead of her.

She didn't know whether to be worried, or to be thankful. But for the past two hours, she was left to herself, feeling considerably apprehensive as she walked beside the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

As they walked away from what seemed to be the tenth civilian they had questioned, Lauren sighed, drawing it out, and took a moment to collect herself. Barton noticed the genuine emotion on her face, which was so rarely there that he stopped and faced her.

Her mood instantly soured—more so than it already had been—and she snapped, "What?"

"Don't ask _me_ that," he retorted. "You're the one who's been acting like we're being followed or something. Are we?"

"Are we what?"

"Are we _being followed_?" It was obvious that he was trying very hard not to lose his temper, by the way he breathed out through his nostrils.

Relenting, Lauren lowered her gaze and forced a softer tone into her voice—masking her growing stress and worry.

"I cannot tell," she muttered. "Ever since we began our search, I've been feeling as if someone… or some _thing_ … has been watching me… watching us. Yet since you do not have similar troubles, perhaps my senses are just overly heightened again."

He raised an eyebrow. "'Again'?"

 _Lack of sleep usually equals to overreacting to every tiny thing,_ she mused.

She had no plans on telling him about her recurring nightmares, how they were becoming more frequent—coming even in her waking hours, and how they were troubling her even more now that winter solstice was drawing closer. He'd perceive her to be weak, as someone who couldn't even keep her concerns to herself and be strong enough to bear the load. So she wouldn't tell him.

Instead, she plucked up some of her resolve and said, "Perhaps a hot meal would do me good."

Barton gained a sort of surprised air around him as soon as the words escaped her mouth, but he hid it well. And though he nodded, he did not seem convinced. Lauren expected nothing less from a trained spy.

"Stark searched up some of the best grub here, suggested a restaurant just a few blocks down," he said. "You up for some fish?"

Lauren smiled slightly. Truth be told, she was starting to miss the taste of boar, or deer, or anything wild, if she thought about it. And though fish stood just fine with her, she was never going to get used to being served her food and not being the one who had killed it.

She supposed she was just going to have to take extra precautions before eating the food placed before her.

* * *

She was satisfied to find out that Tony had not been jesting.

The food was superb, which she found out for herself, given that Agent Barton refused to do a food testing for her.

He had watched with a twinkle in his eye as she scooped a spoonful of the food and brought it to her nose, sniffing it, before flicking out her tongue for a quick taste. As soon as she was finished mixing the rice and sauce around, checking for anything out of the ordinary, she allowed herself to take a full bite of the baked fish.

She chewed slowly, tentatively, and kept herself from swallowing even a bit of the sauce. After a few seconds, she found that there was no hint of poison or spoils, so she allowed herself to eat more freely.

It had not fully registered to her just how hungry she was, until she found a completely empty platter before her, while there were still a few bites left on Barton's. She brought the rim of her glass to her lips and took a few sips, doing her best to hide her growing embarrassment. She thought she was doing a good job of it, too, but then a light chuckle escaped Clint, making her frown in disappointment.

"It's settled then," he said. "We'll come here every night for dinner."

She frowned. "I don't recall coming to such an agreement."

"Look, just admit it: you liked the food. And frankly, I did too. Plus, it's cheap, and Fury didn't give me many euros in the first place, so."

He shrugged, and Lauren narrowed her eyes at him. Why was he acting so… comfortable? With _her_? The last time she had bothered to check, he didn't like her. Never did… Or maybe that was just her being shady towards him. The more she thought about it, the more it began to make sense.

Then, she remembered the Prophecy, and what it required from the both of them.

In an effort to loosen up, she returned his shrug and curled one corner of her lip upwards. "For the better part of convenience, I suppose we could make it work."

His eyebrows shot up immediately. "That's the first relaxed sentence you've ever spoken to me."

A dark look flashed across her face, but she toned down her glare to a minimum. "Don't push it," she muttered, to which he only smirked.

He finished his food and raised his hand, waving it, in a gesture asking for the bill. As they lingered for a bit, waiting for the waiter to return with their change, Barton said, "Rolling on the floor laughing."

Lauren turned to him and frowned in confusion. "What?"

"That's what R.O.F.L. means to teenagers. Rolling on the floor laughing."

For a few long moments, she only stared at the floor, mulling over what he had just said. The waiter came back and handed Clint a couple of coins, and she absentmindedly muttered a thank you in Greek. It was only when they had exited the restaurant that she responded to Barton's information.

"That's stupid," she said simply, eliciting a bark of laughter from the agent that resulted in several people looking their way. She threw him a warning look, but even she couldn't help the smile that inched up her lips.

* * *

 **NIGHT 3**

 _Lauren stood in a vast chamber._

 _Marble pillars lined the walls with swirls of gold glistening within the stone. She raised her head and found a ceiling made of the same rock; a large chandelier hung from the center, with bulbs of what seemed to be diamond. The floor was cool beneath her bare feet._

 _She stared at the line of thrones sitting in front of her, empty. But she knew where she was. The throne room of Mount Olympus._

 _If only to further confirm her suspicions, she switched her gaze slightly to the left and found a lone brazier sitting beside the throne last in the line. The fire blazed bright, and Lauren loosened up. The gods were very much alive, if idle._

 _She walked towards the hearth, frowning when she realized that the Lady Hestia was not tending to the flame. She was not aware that she could ever leave her post there. She stared into the fire, lost in thought, and was startled out of her reverie by a smooth voice coming from behind her._

 _"I thought I would find you here."_

 _Lauren whirled around to find Hestia standing across the room, dressed in her usual brown robes. The look on her face was kind, yet even from afar Lauren could see the urgency in her fiery eyes._

 _"Believe me, Lady Hestia, I did not come here of my own volition," she replied, walking towards the goddess with even steps._

 _She stopped when Hestia raised her hand. "No, stay there." Lauren raised a questioning eyebrow, and the goddess smiled. "Look at the hearth, Lauren, as you were before I interrupted."_

 _Despite her initial confusion, Lauren did as she was told, turning back around and returning her gaze to the fire. With her heightened senses, she could hear Hestia closing the distance between them. The goddess did not speak for quite some time, and Lauren took the initiative to break the silence between them._

" _The hearth shines bright tonight, my lady," she said._

 _"I was beginning to think you wouldn't notice," said Hestia, smiling._

 _"Is there a reason why I would notice otherwise?"_

 _Quite abruptly, Hestia's eyes turned sad as she turned her own gaze to the hearth. "The Olympians are stronger, now more than ever," she said. "Because of the threat placed before us, we have never been more united."_

 _"Then it is a larger threat than I previously thought."_

 _Hestia nodded grimly. "Yet as you should know by now, Lauren Brooks, the gods are nothing without their children. Our civilization would have fallen by now if it weren't for the demigods." Lauren had to agree. "Zeus has forbidden any interaction between the Olympians and their children."_

So we assumed, _Lauren thought. "But why?"_

 _The goddess sighed. "In spite of past events, Zeus is yet to let go of his pride. He thinks that we can take care of the problem ourselves, without any more… unfortunate casualties."_

 _Lauren knew what that meant. He might have been hardheaded and cold, as the gods were most of the time, but he still cared about his children. And Thalia had fallen. If Lauren had to guess, Zeus didn't want to lose Jason as well, despite him being Roman._

" _This isn't even just about Orion or Khione anymore," Lauren argued. "It is bigger than the Greeks or the Romans."_

 _"Do you think we don't know this?" said Hestia, sounding a bit scolding. "Zeus is very much aware that this problem has spread to the realms of the Aesir."_

 _"Has he spoken to Odin?"_

" _No, he has not. It wouldn't be wise. But we have a guess on who could have let Khione onto Jotunheim."_

 _Lauren's eyes narrowed. "How do you know about that?"_

 _"The gods may not be omnipresent, and Zeus may have prohibited any_ physical _interaction, but he made it clear that I was still to watch over the camp and relay any new information. I was more than happy to oblige, of course. Sitting around and doing nothing but tend to the hearth can become quite boring at times." And… did Hestia just wink at her? "In other words, no, it was not Loki who brought Khione onto Jotunheim."_

 _Lauren frowned. "Who was it, then?"_

 _"Who do you think?"_

 _After a moment, she replied, "Tyr?"_

 _Hestia shrugged. "He is the only lead either of us have."_

 _"That says it then…"_

 _"What?"_

 _"That Ethan's dreams are actually happening in real life," Lauren replied, "If Zeus has been bothering that much about it."_

 _"Did you think otherwise?" asked Hestia. When Lauren hesitated, the goddess smiled softly. "Apollo has been sending you those dreams for a reason, Lauren. He thinks they will help with your Quest."_

 _Lauren frowned. "Apollo has been the one sending them?"_

 _"With the help of Hypnos, yes." Hestia sighed. "He knows that Zeus' plans are foolhardy, that they will not work, and so he trusts that you finding Orion's bane will save the annihilation of both camps. What he is doing is risky… but he trusts you. And I agree that it is necessary."_

 _Lauren felt a sudden weight on her shoulders. She had felt responsible for the outcome of both Prophecies ever since her Quest begun, but hearing about how Apollo had laid all his beliefs on her was another thing entirely. It made her feel like the whole world was in the palm of her hands, and it was her secondhand choice whether she would crush it or let it stay as it was._

 _Exhaling in tiredness, she stepped closer to the hearth, staring deeper into the flames, fully aware that the fire could not hurt her in a dream._

 _In a soft voice, she asked, "Is there hope for us, Lady Hestia?"_

 _There was a pregnant pause, before the goddess placed her hand on Lauren's arm. Her vision was suddenly filled with images—a large tree; a polluted river, filled with scraps of what seemed to be broken toys; two large, beady eyes._

 _Lauren returned to herself with a sharp gasp, and Hestia was looking at her with sad eyes._

 _"From what I have seen, yours will be a hard journey, Lauren Brooks," she said. "Full of difficulties and full of losses, and decisions you could not hope to make, yet you will have to. A life of a true hero." She leaned forward and touched Lauren's forehead. "I sincerely hope you do not die."_

* * *

Lauren shot up in her bed, a slight yell escaping her lips. She choked it back as soon as she realized it had left her mouth.

Beads of sweat rolled down her skin, soaking through her thin nightclothes. She swiftly turned her head and took refuge in the fact that her bow was still with her, sitting in its case at the corner.

Wiping her forehead, she could swear that she could still feel Hestia's warm touch on her skin. It was an eerie feeling, one she quickly dispelled with a cold shower. She stayed in the bathroom stall for a while, letting her skin prune, drowning in her thoughts.

Before she and Barton had ended the day, they'd given a call to Camp Half-Blood, which Chiron answered, and, shortly afterwards, Jill and Ethan.

The Fleece had malfunctioned again, though only once, but even that resulted in most of the crops being destroyed by a swarm of _karpoi_. Chiron was just thankful that there hadn't been more wolves.

Lauren had told them how uneventful their first day of searching had been.

Seeing the disappointment on Chiron's face had sent a similar wave of emotion through Lauren, and it seemed to have continued into her sleep. Hestia's final words to her did nothing to help.

By the time she got out of the bathroom, the early rays of morning were already seeping past the curtains, and judging by the light shuffling of feet across the hall, she guessed that Barton had already woken up.

And then she realized… _With walls as thin as these, could he have heard me earlier this morning?_

Troubled, Lauren quickly donned a new pair of jeans and a dark shirt, tugging on her parka and her hunting boots. As she was braiding her hair, she mentally prepared herself for a full day running on insufficient sleep.

* * *

 **Still just one review? I'm disappointed... [sigh]**


	17. Chapter 16 - Revelations

With all the snow falling in sheets over the iced paths, it wasn't surprising to see that not many people were out and about at the docks.

The sea was yet to freeze over, but thick strips of ice had already gathered on the surface of the water. By the piers, fishermen were only beginning to throw their nets into the water, hoping to catch as much fish as possible before the worst of the winter settled in.

Lauren scanned their surroundings, taking in the sights before her and observing a bit as Agent Barton did the same.

By unspoken agreement, they separated from each other and approached two different civilians, beginning with the day's interrogations. Forcing a smile onto her face, Lauren greeted the woman in front of her with a polite nod of her head.

" _Hello,_ " she said, reflexively switching to the Greek language.

The woman, who looked to be in her prime, flashed a brilliant smile at her. " _Hello_." Her grey-blue eyes twinkled beneath the sunlight. " _What brings you down here to the fishing bay during such a wonderful morning?_ "

" _I was just showing my friend over there everything Athens has to offer._ " Saying this, Lauren subtly pointed at Barton, who was engaged in light banter with a white-haired fisherman. " _He isn't from here_."

" _You don't look to be either,_ " the woman mused with a chuckle. " _Where are you from?_ "

" _America,_ " said Lauren, " _Hailing from the Big Apple herself._ "

She had meant for the statement to be lighthearted, in order to make the woman see that she meant no harm, but her smile dropped when the twinkle in the woman's eyes promptly died.

"New York?" The English words sounded off with the woman's lilting accent. As Lauren was nodding her head, a sort of frightened expression crossed the woman's face.

Lauren frowned. " _We're only staying for a few days—_ "

" _No, no, you do not understand,_ " said the woman, holding her hands up. " _I am not afraid of you. I am afraid_ for _you._ " She shook her head. Her voice suddenly dropped. " _Two girls passed by here two years ago, very much the same age as you; they were from New York as well, or so they said. They were only here for a day or two before terrible things began happening. The fish spoiled quicker, the farmers' crops withered and died within hours, and it started snowing._ " A dark look passed her face. " _It does not snow in the summer._ "

" _No, it doesn't._ " Lauren's mind went into overdrive, trying to decipher why such things would happen. An idea came to mind, and it was entirely possible.

She had an educated guess on what happened to the two girls. Still, she asked, " _Do you have any idea why things like that would suddenly just happen?_ "

The woman quickly shook her head. " _No._ "

Sensing the lie in her voice, Lauren raised an eyebrow. " _I know that you are lying, my friend. Don't worry. I do not judge people based on their beliefs._ "

" _Even if it is a foolish belief?_ " she heard her mutter under her breath, before she breathed in deeply and slowly answered. " _I believe that the gods have cursed this land._ "

This land? _Greece_? Why would the gods curse the place where they were born? Probably seeing the skepticism on Lauren's face, the woman dismissed her idea with shakes of her head and quickly muttered words. " _It is stupid… stupid… Forget I ever said such a thing—_ "

" _You still believe in the gods?_ "

The woman stopped her mumbling, staring at Lauren for a good while before shrugging, almost nervously. " _They have never given me reason to believe otherwise,_ " she said. " _I still pray to them, if that is what you are asking._ "

" _Then you will live a long and fruitful life._ "

She seemed startled that Lauren had said something of the sort—for Lauren had no doubt just implied that she knew something about the gods in general.

And so Lauren offered a brief smile, nodded in farewell, and quickly turned around so the woman wouldn't be able to make her stay to answer her questions. She had revealed too much already. To explain _how_ she knew such things would be the height of folly. Artemis would be so upset with her, she would surely be removed from the Hunt, and that was one of the worst things that could happen.

Once she was close enough, Barton turned away from his interrogation and gave Lauren a long look.

"Did she have _that much_ information?" he inquired, sounding annoyingly curious about why she had taken so long.

"No," Lauren curtly replied. "In fact, she had none at all… or none that you need to know about, anyway."

The friendliness on his face immediately disappeared, giving way to what looked to be discontentment.

He muttered a quick thank you to the man he had been speaking with and strode away, but not before grabbing Lauren's elbow and pulling her along with him. He dragged her towards a damp alleyway, where there were no prying eyes and ears.

Huffing angrily, Lauren snatched her arm away from him and hissed, "If you do not explain yourself _right now_ , I will—"

"Let's get something straight, okay?" Barton snapped. Lauren fumed at having been interrupted, but the agent continued, giving no thought to the murderous look on her face. "The prophecy said that we have to finish this Quest thing _together_. I don't give a damn if you don't like me, but we're _partners_ now, okay? And partners don't keep things from each other. Not a damn thing. So if you want this thing to work out in _our_ favor, you'll let go of your _goddamned_ pride and _trust_ me."

A long, tense minute of silence passed, with them just staring each other down.

Lauren was fuming. A man had never spoken her to in such a way before—perhaps once or twice by an indignant child, but never a man. It was a mortifying experience, and her pride did not allow an apology to escape her lips.

Yet as angry as she felt, a part of her knew that he was right. They had to work together for the Prophecy to be fulfilled, for the Greeks to be able to survive the oncoming war.

She would never admit it, but his argument stood.

Scowling unhappily, Lauren forced her shoulders to loosen up, only then feeling the coiled muscle between her shoulder blades. She had intentionally made the movement noticeable, and Agent Barton caught on quickly enough. The crease on his forehead lightened up as he sensed her laying down her defeat.

"We can speak more of this tonight at the hotel," Lauren grumbled. "For now, we still have work to do." She uncrossed her arms and turned away from him, though slower than she would have in other circumstances.

She heard the light shuffling of feet as Clint rushed to catch up to her. "You won't hold anything back?" She nodded curtly. "Swear it."

Lauren sighed. "I promise that I won't lie, and that I will tell you anything that I find out. Happy?" He only nodded.

The weight of her oath bore down on her, but nothing like an oath on the River Styx would have. She continued with her brisk pace, cursing her father for having gotten her into such a situation.

* * *

The rest of the day was uneventful, to Lauren's utmost unease. Their time in Greece was limited, and apart from that, _if_ they even found the bane, there was still the problem with what they were going to do with it. They couldn't exactly have it work without Orion within the initial perimeter, could they?

Frustrated with it all, Lauren huffed once, clenching her hand into a fist beneath the dining table. The tablecloth would hide the action from strangers' eyes, even Barton's, but he was a spy for a reason. He noticed her unrest as soon as they had settled themselves in the restaurant.

She guessed that it wasn't very hard to miss from the way she'd been aggressively flipping through the menu, giving their waiter death glares from time to time. She hated him—the waiter. His intentions were obvious from the way he was looking at her.

She ended up ordering the same thing as the night before, and Barton followed suit. She watched with hateful eyes as the waiter took her and Barton's menus—intentionally grazing his hand against hers—and as he strode away to have their meals prepared.

"Daft bastard," she muttered under her breath, catching the way Clint's lip turned up slightly in amusement.

Not wanting to make a scene, she reined in her anger with a deep breath, clenched her hands one last time, and then released the tension in her body with a slow, long exhale.

Clint was still there for her when she finished, a look of sympathy on his face. Lauren, surprisingly, found herself grateful for his patience. _Definitely a step higher than where we were this morning,_ she thought.

"I told you you'd have to get used to it," said Clint, a hint of cheekiness in his voice.

"Forgive me if I take my time," she shot back, earning her a smirk. "And… I hope you will forgive me for my words this morning. It was shameful of me, and after some thinking, I found that you were absolutely right." He raised an eyebrow, and she continued, "Partners should not have to keep things from each other. And, as much as it hurts for me to say this, we _are_ partners, now."

He grinned, but didn't push his luck for longer than was necessary. Once he was sober, he said, "So are you going to tell me what you and that lady at the docks talked about?"

Warily, she looked around the restaurant but found nothing completely suspicious. "I suppose it's safe enough to talk about here—"

She shut her mouth as soon as she saw the haughty waiter coming back, carrying a small tray with two champagne glasses filled with sparkling water.

He placed each of the glasses in front of them, a pleasant smile on his face. " _Is there anything else you need, miss…?_ "

He wanted to know her name—her _last_ name, and presumably her first as well. She was not willing to offer it to someone so unworthy of her acquaintance.

" _No, nothing else,_ " she replied, waving her hand in dismissal. From the corner of her eye, she saw the shock cross his face, followed by frustration at having been shooed away like some dog. He bowed once, shallowly, before whirling around and walking away.

Clint chuckled. "I'll never get tired of seeing you doing that to people… people except me, of course."

"Alright, here it is," she said, about to begin her explanation—the _long_ one. Beneath the table, she was wringing her wrists. "It is nothing very complicated, actually. I introduced you and myself as tourists from New York. That was when she sort of… 'freaked out'."

The way she said the modern term must have been very amusing, for Barton's shoulders shook with silent laughter.

"The woman told me that two girls passed by here two years ago, and then that after a few days, odd things started happening."

"So they were demigods," he concluded.

She nodded. "The girls were not seen again after that. The woman believed that perhaps it was the gods who had punished the land."

"Why would they do that?"

"They wouldn't," Lauren explained. "In fact, I am quite positive that the Olympians would do anything in their power to keep Greece thriving. But, not all gods want the same thing."

"Khione," Barton said.

Right after he said the name, a chill crept over Lauren, dampening her spirits immensely. The same must have happened to him, for he visibly shivered, and a disturbed look crossed his face.

Lauren's heart clenched. "I think it would be in our favor if we were to limit the saying of _her_ name whilst in Greece. It must be tabooed."

He nodded in agreement. "Gotcha."

Lauren cleared her throat. "So, _she_ and her new comrades, the non-Greek ones, either want to weaken the Olympians' original source of power, or…"

A thought suddenly occurred to her, and she found her throat closing up at the distinct probability of it all.

When she did not continue, Clint raised an eyebrow and leaned forward in newfound interest. "Or?"

"Or they are trying to protect something," she concluded, her mind still working at a fast pace. "If a demigod or two were to get too near the bane, purposefully or not, it would not be so hard for _her_ to wipe them out, especially if the demigod did not know what he was getting into."

"But we _do_ know what we're getting into," said Barton. "Courtesy of you… You're not planning on backing out, are you?"

She frowned. "Of course not. Why would you think that?"

He only shrugged. That was when the waiter returned with their food. He laid the platters onto the table, and this time, Lauren made sure to keep glaring at him through and through. Ultimately, he received the message and walked away without so much as a single glance at her.

She allowed herself a satisfied smile, and from across the table, Agent Barton clapped lightly.

Once she noticed the all too familiar sparkle in his eye, she quickly sobered up and averted her gaze.

"It is impossible to abandon a Quest, once you have begun it," she murmured. "If you do, either the gods will strike you down where you stand, or the Fates will offer a worse form of punishment."

As she was just starting with her food, she felt the agent staring at her, and looked up to find that she was right. "Are you saying that from experience or…?"

She could not help but to smile slightly, but it was a sad smile. "No, not from experience." That was everything she was willing to offer at the moment. She was thankful that he didn't argue, but instead just picked up his fork and ate away at his meal.

* * *

 **NIGHT 4**

 _I am in the middle of a dark, vast wasteland—boulders on the ground, rocks jutting out of the soil, and several miles away, a cliff face made of the same blue stone._

 _I look up and expect to see the moon. It's there, but… I am vaguely aware that it_ _should not be that close. Apart from the stars, I see dozens of galaxies in the night sky—again, looking far too close for comfort._

 _It is then that I am able to figure out where I am: Jotunheim._

 _I must be dreaming. But I also know that this is_ not _what I should be dreaming about._

 _Where is the scorpion? Where are the trees? Is this the Fates offering up some vague explanation to me? No. That couldn't be. During my dreaming of the scorpion, I was always Orion. I was never myself._

 _So, this—standing in Jotunheim—had to be a premonition of some sort. Chiron once told me that some demigods, under certain conditions, dreamt of things that had already happened, were still happening, or was about to happen._

 _Hadn't Ethan dreamt of something like this before? Of standing on a blue place with snow everywhere, of being cold, and looking up and seeing that planets aside from stars._

 _Ahead of me, a chunk of rock breaks away from the cliff face and breaks apart against the hard ground. The crash can be heard even from miles away._

 _I look at the cliff face again, wondering whether the whole thing was going to collapse, when I notice the figure perched at the very top. As soon as I do, I feel a sharp tug in my middle. I close my eyes at the sharp sensation._

 _When I open my eyes again, I find myself standing on the cliff I had been staring at just moments ago._

 _Confusion washes over me. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a flicker of movement to my left._

 _The figure easily dwarfs me, standing over seven feet tall. His skin is a dark shade of blue-green, with patterns and swirls dancing all across his body. He is almost completely nude, with only a rather thick strip of cloth dangling from his waist._

 _I avert my gaze immediately, revolted and frightened at the same time. Then he turns, and I see that his eyes are the color of blood._

 _I stand completely still, thinking that I am the one he is staring at. When he does not make a move, I take a careful step back. His lip curls up in a sneer._

" _Good evening, my lady." His voice is a low rumble that starts in his throat and seems to only barely make it out of his mouth._

 _Thinking that it is always better to stand tall than run away with my tail between my legs, I raise my chin and open my mouth to answer him, only to find the words caught in my throat when someone_ literally _walks through me._

 _I remain there, trying to make sense of what just happened, before remembering that I am in a dream. I was not supposed to own a true body, a physical body. As of now, only my consciousness is present._

 _The person that walked through me had raven black hair, abnormally pale skin, and the stance of a queen. She stands on her tiptoes and plants a kiss on the Frost Giant's neck, just below the jaw. He seems pleased._

" _How are the battle plans, my liege?" Khione purrs._

" _They are faring nicely," says the Frost Giant. "Our numbers grow every hour. After five more nights, they shall be enough to take Midgard_ and _Asgard."_

" _More than enough?"_

" _We will see."_

" _Those damned Greeks won't know what hit them."_

 _"Speaking of those Greeks… tell the Norseman to send them another warning by morning, hm? They've gone too long without a problem, I fear they'll offer too much of a fight when the war comes."_

 _"Consider it done."_

" _Perfect." The Jotunn grins again. "And how does Orion fare?"_

" _Oh, I certainly do not envy him," says Khione._

 _By then, I gained enough courage to slowly make my way to the front of them, so I was practically standing on the edge of the cliff. Khione's face is distorted in what looks to be disenchantment, but that disappears quickly enough._

" _But he will only have to stay by the World Tree for a few more nights," she continued. "And his bathe in the Styx will ensure that he will still be alive by the end of all of this."_

 _A growl builds within the Jotunn's chest, and then Khione is running her hands up and down his chest. The sight makes me look away in disgust._

" _He is dedicated to this cause, my king," Khione mutters, "but he will not take the throne from you. When I last spoke to him, we both came to the decision that it is_ you _who should rule. Andleut, the agreement was mutual."_

 _The Frost Giant turns her around and wraps his large arms around her, practically engulfing her in his mass. He leans down and whispers into her ear, "And will you be my queen, Khione?"_

 _I swear that I saw abhorrence flicker across her face, but when she answered, her words were sickly sweet: "Yes."_

* * *

Lauren woke up with such a start that she fell off the edge of the bed and landed on her stomach.

Her head was pounding, and there was an uncomfortable fluttering feeling in her stomach. Bile rose up her throat and she knew she wouldn't be able to stop it.

In a second, she had risen to her feet and shot across the room and into the bathroom. She quickly flipped the toilet lid up and was spewing her dinner into the waters below. Needless to say, she was disgusted with herself, but she blamed the dream.

As she was rinsing out her mouth, there was the sound of a door slamming closed, and then footsteps barreling down the hallway. Her bedroom door was shoved open to reveal a bleary-eyed, messy-haired Agent Barton.

"What happened? I heard something fall and…" He soon trailed off, his eyes switching from her to the open toilet lid. "Were you… _puking_?"

"Yes," she answered miserably.

"Why?"

"I had a dream. But this one… this one was different. I was on Jotunheim." His eyes immediately lit up with interest. "I saw Khione and a Frost Giant. They were… _together_."

"Ew," she heard Barton mutter, and she nodded in agreement.

"Frigga was right," she continued, hastily rinsing out her mouth. She got to her feet and walked out of the bathroom. "It was Tyr who got Khione onto Jotunheim, not Loki. And from everything else I heard, the Frost Giants are gathering. They are forming an army, one large enough and strong enough to take Asgard in one fell swoop."

"The Frost Giant you saw with Khione, he was their leader?"

"Yes… his name was Andleut, I think."

"And did you hear anything about Orion?"

Lauren shook her head. "I do not think he is currently on Jotunheim, or even here on Earth, for that matter. Khione said something about him spending a few more nights by a tree."

"Tree?" He frowned in confusion. "What tree?"

"Khione said 'world tree'… I don't know why it sounds so familiar…"

"Lauren."

She stopped pacing and turned to face the agent, drawn in by the sudden dread in his voice. "What? What is it?"

"The World Tree. That's… That's Yggdrasil. _The_ Yggdrasil." His lips were drawn into a tight frown, his forehead very much creased. "The prophecy said something about _nine nights_ … In Norse mythology, Odin once speared himself onto Yggdrasil so he could obtain knowledge. About _everything_. And guess how many nights he had to stay there?"

Lauren's heart dropped into her stomach as the realization hit her. "Nine nights."

Barton took a step towards her. In a deathly serious voice, he said, "We need to call Chiron. _Now_."

* * *

 **So why do you guys think Lauren was barfing? x'D**


	18. Chapter 17 - Sentiment

**Lauren shows some emotion other than anger...**

 **Also, some ACTION in this chapter! :D**

* * *

"That is grave news indeed..." said Chiron. Lauren watched as he stroked his beard, eyebrows furrowing together. "Lauren, if Orion has bathed in the Styx _and_ pinned himself to Yggdrasil… the results could be—"

"Disastrous, I know," she finished for him. "But if we could only find the bane _sooner_..."

She cursed loudly in Greek, frustrated with how little progress she and Barton had made. Orion being near invincible, Khione siding with a Norse god and a Jotunn with an army… Things seemed so bleak; Lauren very nearly gave up right then and there. Oh, how she wanted to.

She didn't even attempt to mask her despondence when she looked up and told Chiron that Khione was going to force another fluctuation on the Fleece and send monsters to attack the camp.

The centaur's frown deepened. "Did she mention how much she would send?"

"Andleut only told her to send a _warning_... They know we're not ready for another war. They're _taunting_ us."

Lauren had to turn away from the Iris message, afraid that she would swipe her hand across it in agitation. She huffed and crossed her arms, trying to compose herself. She looked out across the courtyard of the hotel, watched her breaths come out of her mouth in white lisps of air.

The sun was yet to rise, so no one else was walking about; everyone was asleep, except perhaps for a handful, but there was no way they would venture into the courtyard, like Barton and Lauren had done. It was freezing, and dark. Looking about her, Lauren felt so helpless.

Meanwhile, Barton had decided it best to finish their little meeting.

"Chiron, we have to go," he said. "Get everyone ready for the fight, okay?"

Lauren turned just in time to see the centaur bob his head in acknowledgement. "I send you all the luck in the world, Agent Barton." With that, he swiped his hand across his separate source of water, ending the Iris message.

Lauren heard a sigh escape Clint; she looked at him, forcing a hard look onto her face and masking her earlier depression.

His hair was mussed up, his eyes still bleary, and there were bags under his eyes. She'd expected nothing less. And she knew that they weren't going to fall asleep any time soon again… or, at least, she knew that _she_ wasn't. There was still hope for him.

He was an Avenger, after all. He dealt with world-threatening situations practically every month.

"What do we do now?" he asked.

"The only thing we can do: continue the Quest, find the bane," she replied almost automatically. There was still that nagging feeling in her stomach, though, telling her that things were going to go very, _very_ badly.

Barton raised an eyebrow. "Right now, or in the morning?"

Her lips twitched upwards in a slight smile. She couldn't help herself. "In the morning, Agent Barton. You can go back to sleep."

"Just me? Were you planning on staying up for—" He went quiet for a moment, no doubt counting in his head,"—five more hours?"

She only replied with a shrug, not willing to reveal just how afraid she was. Without another word, she brushed past him and back into the hotel. She could hear him following quietly behind her.

The security guard threw them odd looks but nevertheless let them onto the elevator. The ride to their floor was filled with silence; Lauren didn't know whether to be thankful or annoyed about the agent's compliance. When they arrived at their rooms, she entered immediately and closed the door behind her.

With her heightened hearing, she was able to hear Clint's sigh from the other side of the door. Then, his footsteps as he walked into his room, the closing of a door, some more footsteps, and then silence.

 _In the morning,_ Lauren told herself. _I'll apologize in the morning, or not at all._

She slipped her boots off and slowly padded to the bed, where she buried her face into the pillow and snuggled tightly into the comforter. Despite the softness and the warmth that the bed offered, she'd been right. No more sleep was coming to her that night.

So she grabbed a book from the shelf (not hers, but placed in the room beforehand by the hotel staff). Opening the book, she prepared herself for a long five hours.

* * *

When morning came, Lauren felt heavy-hearted and unfocused.

They had a light breakfast of corn soup with a few slices of toast bread. Clint had coffee, and Lauren ordered a glass of cooled orange juice. Ultimately, she couldn't muster up the will to finish the drink—she drank what looked to be less than half of it.

She left a few euros on the table—a tip and an apology.

They returned to the docks and questioned some of the fishermen; Lauren thought that perhaps the bane could be found out at sea. But the fishermen reported nothing odd about the waters, except that they were freezing up quicker than expected. She offered them curt nods in reply, knowing that Khione was behind it.

When one of the fishermen returned to his boat, Lauren noticed the piece of paper nailed on the dock post.

The word _missing_ was written in bold Greek at the top. There were pictures of four teenagers: three boys and one girl. All of them held the features of a Greek, so it was impossible for Lauren to know whether they were demigods or not. Their names were written down beneath each picture. At the very bottom, the words _last seen: a gas station by the Woods of Keri_ could be seen very clearly.

Lauren froze. She recalled a conversation she'd overheard during their first day in Athens, between a shopkeeper and a woman. They'd been talking about the very same flyer that was in front of Lauren.

Frowning, she tore the paper off the post and tried to think.

A puzzle had been placed in front of her with just one missing answer, and she felt as though the answer was very, _very_ obvious.

Someone touched her shoulder. She turned around to find Clint staring at her with apprehensive eyes.

"Lauren?" he said. "What is it?"

She opened her mouth, about to give him a proper answer, when her heart skipped a beat and seemed to jump into her throat. Her grip on the missing flyer tightened reflexively, something that Clint didn't miss.

"What's wrong?" he asked in a more serious tone.

"Monsters," she whispered. "Close by. Very close by."

"What? Where?"

Lauren very subtly craned her neck, eyes frantically searching. For a few tense moments, she saw nothing but the regular civilian, going about their business, as it was a regular day.

And then she spotted them: three women garbed in fur dresses, with matching, flowing dark hair. At first glance, they looked like regular citizens, but the longer Lauren stared, the more their true forms presented themselves to her.

Their green, reptilian skin, and their snake tails— _Scythian dracaenae._ They stood at least two feet higher than everyone else, too, but the Mist covered them up. The old man they were speaking with was smiling pleasantly.

And then his eyes flickered to Lauren and Clint.

Lauren was quick to grab Clint's forearm, turning them both around, trying to blend them into the thin crowd.

"Where?" Clint repeated.

"Behind us," Lauren muttered. "A few feet away. Three of them, talking with some vendor."

"What? How—"

"They can't see through the Mist like you." She risked a glance over her shoulder and found the old man now pointing at them, his lips still moving, no doubt answering every question the _dracaenae_ were asking. "We have to get out of here."

Clint looked at her as if she'd just grown a horn on her forehead. "Are you kidding me?" he said. "We have to get rid of them, Lauren."

Much as she hated to admit, he was right—again. If they left the _dracaenae_ walking about the city, they could hurt some civilians; or worse, level the whole city. They were definitely strong enough to do so, and Lauren wasn't even sure if there were other demigods in Athens.

" _Skatá_ ," she cursed under her breath. "Fine, we will fight. But not here. Too many people could get caught in the crossfire."

"Have they caught sight of us yet?" Right after Clint asked, he looked over his shoulder and whipped his head back around just as quickly. "Yup. Crap, they move fast. Are those really their legs?"

"Yes." As soon as the words left her mouth, she noticed something, and her dread grew worse. "You do realize that we are without weapons, yes?"

He sucked in a deep breath as they turned two sharp corners, consecutively. "How far is the hotel?"

"Five minutes on foot, more or less."

"We can run."

"Do we have a choice?"

"No."

They abruptly broke into a run. Lauren soon grew thankful that her companion was a trained agent, for if he were any other demigod or mortal, he would have slipped on the icy pavement after two steps.

Barely a minute had passed before she noticed loud hissing coming from behind them.

"Faster!" she told Clint, putting on a burst of speed.

Her hand shot forward and grabbed the corner of a wall, using it as leverage as she slipped around a corner. Barton quickly caught up. Their breaths came out in short puffs, and Lauren's side gradually started to hurt; she had to remind herself to breathe.

The _dracaenae_ sounded much closer now. It must have been considerably easier for them to slither across the floor. Their body heat could melt the ice beneath them.

The high-rise came into view. Just a few more blocks away.

Lauren could see the civilians giving them confused looks; they stared at the _dracaenae_ as well, but no doubt only saw three women chasing down a young girl and a middle-aged man.

Lauren caught sight of a pile of boxes sitting by a wooden fence. She veered off course and rushed to stand behind the pile. With a great push, Lauren sent the boxes toppling onto the middle of the path.

The lids fell off and hundreds of potatoes came rolling out of the boxes, covering the ground and offering a worthy distraction for the _dracaenae_. Lauren allowed a devilish grin onto her face, hearing their hisses of outrage.

She sprinted the rest of the way to the hotel. When she found that Clint was nowhere to be seen upon turning away from the monsters, the sense of betrayal was slow to set in. Before it could, the male agent came running out the hotel's entrance. He had her bow and quiver slung across his shoulder, and the celestial bronze sword in his hand.

Lauren reached for the sword instead of her bow. "The arrows will not be very effective," she told him. "They're as quick as vipers."

"We'll see."

Clint hefted her bow into his hand. Lauren stopped, staring at him, her distrust getting the better of her. No one else had ever used her bow, not even Jill. No one else was _supposed_ to use it except for her.

Before she could come to a decision, she heard the hissing of the _dracaenae_ get ever closer. They sounded like they were just around the corner.

With great reluctance, she gave Barton a brisk nod and turned away from him. "Hey!" she catcalled. " _Échete weiner pódia!_ "

Her insult was met with cries of anger. Lauren gave Barton's forearm a quick swipe and then ran to the side alley of the hotel, with the agent following closely behind.

"What did you say that got them so worked up?" he asked.

"I told them they have Weiner legs," she replied, slightly out of breath.

He went quiet, then. They ran farther away from populated areas. Then came the time when she risked a glance at him and found that he was grinning—rather like a child.

She frowned. "What?"

"I just didn't know you could throw an insult like that."

She put the conversation to rest with a light grunt. It was a discussion for another time. Just then, the _dracaenae_ appeared from around the corner, spears and shields in hand, death in their eyes.

"You dare insult ussss?" the largest one said.

 _There's the easily offended one,_ Lauren thought grimly.

"Yeah," boldly said Clint. "Nice eyes by the way. Really suits you."

When he said this, Lauren noticed that the monster's eyes were of different colors: one was amber, and the other purple. She'd never seen such a disorder on a monster before, but she supposed there was a first for everything.

Clint's statement only angered them further.

"Do not tease my sisssster!" another _dracaenae_ said.

"So you brought the whole family, huh?" Barton continued. "Uh, you got any names?"

Lauren glanced at him from the corner of her eye. It was quite obvious that he was stalling, but she had to wonder _why_.

"Oh!" one of the snake-women suddenly exclaimed, sounding excited. ( _Oh,_ Lauren realized. _This must be the dumb one._ )"Well, _I'm_ Elaith, my sisssster with the special eyes is Istral, and thissss is Cleo—"

As she was gesturing to the final _dracaena_ , Cleo cut her off, hissing, "That'ssss not my name!"

"But your real one is so haaard!"

"I don't care!"

"Fine!" Elaith then pronounced a word that had more foreign vowels in it than Lauren could count.

Lauren cleared her throat. "Right, I think we'll stick with _Cleo_."

"See?" said Elaith, looking at Cleo with a triumphant look.

A snarl escaped Cleo's throat and she actually pointed the tip of her spear at Elaith's face. "Elaith! Focus!"

 _And here's the smart one,_ Lauren concluded. She adjusted the sword in her hand. "Are you going to leave us alone, or will we have to make you?"

"You're not going to make ussss do _anything_ , little demigod." Istral cackled. "We've killed every spawn of the Olympians that have passed here, and oh, how delicious they were!"

"Abssssolutely delectable!" Elaith agreed.

"I wonder how tasssty you are." A malicious grin edged up Cleo's face and she took a step towards Lauren. Before she could go any further, there was the sound of an arrow whizzing through the air. Cleo moved just in time; the tip of the arrow grazed her neck, just below her jaw.

"Celesssstial bronze!" she hissed.

Barton scoffed. "What'd you expect?"

"Fools!" Istral shrieked, and it was loud and high enough to make Lauren wince. "Stop wasting time and _kill them_!"

Elaith made the first move, diving forward and attempting to run her spear through Lauren. Lauren quickly moved away and swiped at the spear with the flat of her sword, forcing Elaith to back up slightly.

She was faintly aware that Clint had become engaged in battle soon after she did, and she could only pray that her arrows would be enough for him.

She parried a second attack from Elaith, again swiping at her spear. Elaith deftly twisted her weapon, making it so that the blunt end was in front of her. Before Lauren could react, Elaith had rammed it against her stomach.

All the air in her lungs left her mouth and she was left wheezing. Through teary eyes, she saw Elaith pulling her spear back for another blow.

Lauren brought the sword up again and deflected the blow. With some effort, she weaved away from Elaith. Clutching her stomach, she took a moment to catch her breath.

She was able to see Clint fighting with Istral before Elaith was on her again—this time, with Cleo by her side.

Startled, Lauren bent her spine backwards, narrowly avoiding the end of Elaith's spear, but then Cleo came barreling in and rammed her shield against Lauren, once again knocking the air out of her.

With a frustrated growl, Lauren forced herself to get out of defense and focus more on her offense.

She yelled loudly, in an effort to shock at least one of them, and it worked. Elaith yelped and slithered back a bit.

Lauren swung her sword at Cleo, but she blocked it with her sword. Lauren ignored the jarring effect it caused on her arm and spun, switching onto her knees. She swiped at Cleo's snake legs.

An inch of her sword cut through the scales and into the soft flesh of both legs. Cleo cried out.

Lauren advanced on Elaith, taking in the fear that flashed across her face. She felt some small amount of pity, but it didn't remain for long. She came at the monster and thrust her sword forward.

Elaith blocked with her shield and made to counterattack with her spear, but Lauren easily maneuvered around it. She saw that Elaith's left flank was unshielded, except for her armor.

In a split moment decision, she whirled and extended her arm, thrusting the tip of her blade into the tiny gap between the _dracaena's_ back and front plackarts.

The sword sunk into flesh, to the very hilt.

Elaith's eyes went wide, before she turned into golden dust before Lauren's eyes. The pity returned for a moment. And then a spine-tingling shriek pierced the air.

She whirled around just in time to see Cleo angling the sharp brim of her shield towards her neck. Lauren bent down and jumped to the side. The tip of Cleo's spear missed her skull by inches.

"You will die for that, _demigod scum_!" Cleo screeched, effortlessly closing the distance between them and thrusting her spear.

Lauren wove to the side again and again, twisting and crouching in order to evade the deadly end of the _dracaena's_ spear.

In the midst of their skirmish, she was able to cut into Cleo's legs once more, sending ichor streaming down her reptilian skin.

Lauren summoned a burst of strength and sent multiple consecutive cuts at Cleo's shield, each one hard enough to keep her from raising her spear. Then Lauren feinted, making sure that Cleo saw, before abruptly pulling away and twirling to her right flank.

There, she repeated her move with Elaith and dug her blade deep into Cleo's torso. She dropped the spear. Lauren was surprised to find her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"She wassss our baby sister," the _dracaena_ said in a broken whisper.

Her words sent a wave of emotion through Lauren, and she struggled to keep a straight face. "I hope you find her in the Pit."

She twisted the sword, still not pulling it out of Cleo's body, and the snake-woman's figure turned to dust.

Lauren was surprised to have her throat closed up with emotion, so she said nothing. The sounds of a fight still rang clear in the air. She turned to find Istral still engaged in battle with Agent Barton, though it seemed the latter was losing.

Istral feinted with her spear. She was able to slip the tip past his arm. It buried itself into his waist, forming a jagged cut that opened his muscles.

A pained grunt escaped him, but he was still able to move away.

Istral, it seemed, had not noticed that her sisters were dead. She advanced on Clint with slow, smug movements, and raised her spear.

Before she could do anything more, Lauren strode towards her and ran her through with her sword. Head thrown back with a soundless yell escaping her mouth, it only took the _dracaena_ a moment to finally give in.

Lauren brushed the monster dust off of her clothes, assessing Clint with concerned eyes. "How bad?" she asked.

"Not too bad," he replied, though he was too late to mask the evident strain in his voice. "A few bruises, and then this son of a bitch."

He pulled his hand away from his waist, enough to show her the jagged cut Istral's spear had made. Some of the meat seemed to have been stripped away.

Lauren grimaced. "We will have to bandage that."

"How about a bite of that ambrosia you lug around?" asked Clint, looking up at her with hopeful eyes.

She shook her head. "Mortals cannot eat ambrosia or drink nectar without dying."

She froze when she heard someone—a _new voice_ —scoff behind her. "Come on, Lauren. Who even uses 'cannot' anymore? Just say _can't_ , it's easier."

But she also recognized that voice. It was clear, like his sister's, but gentler and more teasing.

Clint looked past her with narrowed eyes, the confusion and suspicion evident on his face. Lauren gave him a mild look, and then turned around, feeling like a child caught stealing cookies from the pantry.

Apollo grinned, very nearly blinding her with his pearly whites. "Miss me?"


	19. Chapter 18 - New Directions

The last time Lauren had seen Apollo was after the war with Gaea, when he was helping with some pretty major injuries in the field.

She had made an effort not to get too close to him because she'd been tired and not in the mood to speak with an overly talkative sun god. She was very much in the same state of mind now, but Apollo wasn't supposed to be there, standing in front of her. He was supposed to be in a locked-down Olympus with Zeus barking orders into his ear.

Instead, he was beaming at Lauren with half-hearted mirth on his face.

"Lord Apollo," she started slowly. "What brings you down here?"

"Aw, come on! Would it kill you to call me _dad_?" He rushed forward, closing the distance in a single stride. He leaned down and wrapped his arms around her before she could protest. "Didn't you miss me?"

If Lauren had no pride at all, she would have said yes; if she were to be honest with herself, she had missed him—he was her father, after all.

But she did have pride, more than she cared to admit, and so she turned her head away and refused to hug him back. "Not at all," she said.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," the god grumbled, rather good-naturedly. He pulled away and turned to Clint, giving him a onceover. "You're Agent Barton, then?"

Clint gave a sharp nod, and for a moment, Lauren thought she saw a very serious expression on Apollo's face.

It soon proved to be false when yet another grin stretched across his face. To Lauren's amusement, Barton turned his head away to evade being blinded by the god's teeth.

"This is actually sort of cool," Apollo said. "Should I call you Hawkeye? Being part of the Avengers and all, do you guys call each other by the codenames? I should probably have one—I mean, I _am_ a god. How about King Awesome? Hm… No, too much of a mouthful. _Oh_ —Grand Archer. I like it! What do you think?"

Clint looked uncomfortable. His eyes kept darting here and there, and he was shifting on his feet. But he still had this sort of professional air about himself that Lauren couldn't help but to admire.

As Apollo continued rambling, she did her best to gain his attention.

"Apollo," she said, frowning when he completely ignored her. "Lord Apollo!"

He glanced over his shoulder at her. She didn't miss the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. The solution dawned on her, and she scowled at how petty he was being.

" _Dad_ ," she drawled, scowling when he stopped talking all together and turned to face her.

"There we go. Now, back to business." As soon as he said this, the atmosphere in the alleyway seemed to grow heavier. A shadow crossed his face, and the mirth in his eyes faded somewhat.

"I know you have a lot of questions, but save 'em for the end, okay?" he said. "I don't have much time. Pops is probably pissing himself trying to find me right now."

Clint stepped around the god to stand beside Lauren. Apollo's eyes followed the movement, and Lauren didn't know what to make of it.

"Olympus is locked down at his command, but we don't like it any more than you do. We haven't abandoned the demigods, far from it. Do you understand?"

He was speaking so quickly than Lauren nearly missed his question. "I understand," she replied.

"There's a war coming," he continued. "It's gonna be bigger than either the Romans or the Greeks."

"Yes, Khione's sided with Jotunheim and the god Tyr."

"I promise that they're the least of your problems."

Lauren's frown deepened. "What do you mean?"

He ignored her question and said, "Have you found the bane?"

"Not yet, but—"

"That's because you're looking at the wrong place." She opened her mouth to inquire more, but he didn't let her speak. "It's not here, it's at Crete. You need to pay more attention to your dreams, kid. I'm not asking Hypnos to send them to you for no reason."

Lauren frowned. "But why is Ethan having the same nightmares?"

"I can't explain that right now. All that I can say is that you're linked, alright? I'm not the only family member you have in common." He shook his head. "Change of subject: do you recall having visions about a tree?"

 _A tree._ "I think so… Everything was happening so fast in the dream. I can't… Wait, A, it began with an A… Anegnoro—"

"Bingo," said Apollo. "That's a hella rare tree, nearly extinct. There's only one left in the entire world. Guess where?"

It was Clint who answered: "Crete."

Apollo nodded at the agent. "You guys need to head there, ASAP. Your nine nights are almost through. Orion's bane will be there. That, I can promise."

Lauren blinked, trying to make sense of everything that he was saying. "The nightmares you send me, with the scorpion," she started, surprised to hear that her voice was a bit shaky. "Are they going to…?"

She trailed off, knowing that Apollo could easily understand the flow of her thoughts.

He looked at her for a long moment, and there was a dark look on his face. "You need to be more careful, Lauren. Everything gets harder from here on out. I won't be able to help you again after this. None of the gods will, until Zeus allows it. Watch your back… and know that two is better than one."

His eyes flickered to Barton, who was watching it all in silence; then he returned his gaze to Lauren, and she found a hint of sadness there that unnerved her. It was the same look Hestia had when she had spoken to her in a dream.

Not knowing what else to say, she just nodded.

"I'm not really allowed to butt in with demigod affairs, but I can offer a few words of advice. So here goes." He cleared his throat, and then said, "There are always two teams in a baseball game."

Lauren wrinkled her nose. "Pardon?"

"Quiet, quiet—let me finish." Apollo brought his finger up and shushed her again when she opened her mouth. "There are always two teams in a baseball game: the winning team, and the losing team. Sometimes, it's better to side with the losing team and lose the match, than to join the winning team and lose the entire season."

His eyes, which had previously been staring at the horizon, drifted down to look at Lauren. He raised an eyebrow. "Ya feel me?"

"What?" she snapped. "No, that made absolutely no sense at all—"

Before she could say more, thunder rumbled from above. Frowning, Lauren looked up. There were no clouds to be seen.

Apollo clicked his tongue. "That'd be Pops. Guess I'll catch you on the flip side, huh, kid?" He reached forward and ruffled her hair. Lauren made a move to swipe at his hand but he had already pulled his arm away, smiling, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Bye for now. And don't forget: baseball, two teams."

When Lauren blinked, he was gone. She sighed and watched from the corner of her eye as Barton jumped slightly, realizing that the god had disappeared.

He was quiet for a long moment, and Lauren was perfectly content with just mulling over her thoughts. After a while, Clint broke the silence and said, "Well, I've officially heard it all."

* * *

They returned to the hotel immediately after that, ignoring the looks that the passerby's were giving them. Since Clint was currently holding Lauren's bow for all the world to see, some citizens recognized him, eyes widening and hurried words in Greek escaping their mouths.

But since the agent couldn't understand what they were saying, he didn't stop to speak with any of them—which Lauren was thankful for, because she wanted to leave Athens as soon as possible.

"Do you think Stark will be able to get here before nightfall?" she asked as soon as they arrived in her room.

"Probably," Clint replied. "He does have a jet and all. He'll be able to get us to Crete by tomorrow morning, maybe even sooner."

She watched as he placed her quiver of arrows on top of her bed, handling it with care, almost reverently. And seeing as his movements were exaggerated, she didn't know whether to be insulted or grateful.

Her insides were still in turmoil after seeing the terror in Elaith's face, and the anger that had been on Cleo's, and the "advice" that Apollo had given her. It all had taken her by surprise, leaving her a confused mess.

She'd very nearly told Barton off, but then she remembered the wound he had on his waist.

"Bring out the bandages," she ordered, striding to where her pack lay on one corner of the room.

She heard Clint moving around the room while she rummaged her bag for the bottle of special painkillers Chiron had provided her with. She uncorked it and immediately got a whiff of cool mint.

She held it out to Barton, saying, "Apply this around the wound. It will help with the pain."

The agent complied. As Lauren watched him pour the smooth, green liquid onto his fingers and rub it across the skin on his hip, she wondered what would happen if the stuff got into his bloodstream.

"Make sure not to get any of it onto the wound," she quickly added.

"I know how to apply painkillers," said Clint with an even voice. Lauren knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to keep his emotions in check, to not show them to her. She knew because she'd always done the same with him.

The crease on his forehead and the sweat collecting on his brow betrayed him, though.

Lauren sighed inwardly. "You are lucky the spear was not poisoned."

He didn't look up from his work with the injury. "How do you know it wasn't poisoned?"

"If it was, you'd be dead by now, and I could have done nothing to stop it from killing you."

At this, Barton raised his head. Lauren might have caught a hint of fear flash across his face, but he hid it well. He lowered his head again and resumed rubbing the salve around the wound. After a few more seconds, he began unrolling the bandage at his side.

To her own surprise, Lauren asked, "Do you need help?"

The words had escaped her mouth before she could stop them, and she was soon mentally berating herself.

Barton raised an inquisitive eyebrow. His voice was low, barely hearable, when he said, "Help…?"

She kept quiet, scared that she would only humiliate herself further if she spoke again.

"I, uh… I think I'm good."

Relief flooded through her. She didn't know what she'd do if he'd accepted. But, only adding fuel to the fire of her dismay, Lauren found that she wasn't very opposed to the idea of helping Barton with his wounds. He was her friend, and didn't friends care for each other…?

When Clint pulled his shirt further up his body, revealing his toned stomach, Lauren hastily turned around and made way for the bathroom. Once inside, she locked the door behind her and walked up to the mirror.

She gave herself a long stare, observing the dark circles under her eyes and the vacant look on her face, and she thought, _What is going on with you?_

* * *

 **NIGHT 5**

 _I steel my gut, plant my foot, and push upwards off the ground. For the first time since an hour, I see the creature in full view._

 _Its broad back and tail are shielded with some kind of scaly armor, as well as its eight, clawed legs. Its stinger has the same color and shape of an almost-ripe pomegranate, but much, much larger—perhaps the size of my own head._

 **A tall tree stands before her, its roots buried beneath white ground.**

 _The monster is ten feet away when I let my arrow fly._

 _A sharp clicking sound and it scrapes past the monster's tail._

 _"No…"I realize that the creature had angled its tail only an inch downward, narrowly avoiding my arrow._

 _I've been staring at it for a moment too long; I whirl around and make a move to jump back onto the ground, but the creature snaps at the trunk of the tree and I fall with it. Upon impacting the ground, searing pain shoots up my stomach, making my breath hitch in my throat._

 **Its trunk depicts its massive branches swirling together to form a single stem, and it is as wide as two fully grown men.**

 _"ARTEMIS!" I scream. "ARTEMIS, PLEASE! PHOEBE! ADA! LENORE! HAYLEY—"_

 **She looks up and finds that the branches have been stripped bare, because of the winter. The few leaves that remained are brown, its toothed edges shriveled.**

 _The creature appears behind the thinning cloud of snow, its pincers clicking menacingly as it approaches me. Its tail bends backward first, and I know what comes after. Several drops of yellow liquid oozes out of its stinger and falls onto the branch, where it starts eating away at the bark._

 _"Gods above," I plead, closing my eyes. "Please… HELP ME!"_

 **"Lauren…"**

 _Venom drips from the tip of the creature's tail and falls onto the material above my sternum. I register a hissing sound, and steam is just floating into my line of vision when I feel the overwhelming sense of pain. I scream._

 **"Anegnoro."**

 _Another drop of venom lands on my arm, and there is nothing keeping it off my skin this time. The agony is immediate._

 _Time slows down. The monster pulls its tail back before it starts descending, aimed right at my chest. I close my eyes tighter and wait for death._

 **"Look for Anegnoro…"**

 _Nothing comes. My eyes snap open and I find a golden-haired god standing before me. I frown. "Apollo."_

 _His lips stretch to form his usual grin, and the sight if so familiar that I start to wonder if the monster had indeed gotten to me—that I am just dead and dreaming._

 _I try to reach out for him._

 _That's when the scene before me dissipates again, the colors billowing away in wisps of smoke._

 _Another image forms. A girl with russet hair, waiting in a plain white room—she is knelt by the bedside of an old woman. Her lips move, but I am unable to make out the words._

 _No sooner had the scene formed that it was gone again, replaced by the sight of a dark cave. Jagged rocks line the ceiling directly above a very polluted river._

 _There comes a tugging feeling in my stomach, as if something is drawing me forward. I glance down and find a string jutting out of me. It glows a faint white and doesn't seem to be made out of any physical material._

 _I raise my head to find a girl standing by the riverside. It was the same girl from the previous vision, but this time she has a man with her. An unfamiliar face._

 _I only have time to catch them glance at each other—seemingly in despair—before the girl steps into the water._

 _The picture dissolves once more into wisps of smoke, and a spine-tingling scream disrupts the silence._


	20. Chapter 19 - Stories

Lauren shot up in her bed, gasping for air.

There was pain above her stomach, dead center in her sternum.

She tore the sweat-soaked sheets away from her body and pulled her shirt up; save for the scars she had obtained over the years, there was nothing there. In disbelief, she felt at the skin on her stomach, her chest, yet there was truly nothing. Not even a bump, not even a bruise.

The pain disappeared just as the door burst open. Lauren quickly tugged her shirt back down, already knowing who it was.

"What happened?" said Clint, in the same bedraggled state he was in the night before.

It was the same scene, yet instead of being embarrassed, Lauren felt irked.

"Nothing," she snapped. "Will you stop barging into my room every time I have a nightmare?"

A deep frown eased onto Barton's face. "It's not like I can help it. I thought a monster had gotten to you."

"Why would you think that?"

"You were screaming."

Lauren scoffed. "No, I wasn't. You were hearing things."

Barton sighed and ran a hand across his face. "Yeah, whatever. Point is: I'm awake now, and there's no way in hell I'll be able to fall asleep again."

"The same goes for me." She looked at him in empathy (though she did not show it on her face), taking in his hunched shoulders.

They were exhausted; one glance at the window confirmed her suspicions that dawn was yet to come. If her nightmares didn't stop soon, or ease up, at least, then she was going to be very hard-pressed on staying vigilant.

She inched further up the bed when Barton invited himself in, closing the door behind him to sit on one side of the bed. The mattress sunk a considerable amount beneath his weight, though he didn't seem to notice.

"What was the nightmare about?" he said.

"The same as all the ones before," she replied, a bit wary. "Being chased down… Attacked… Dying. They never have any sort of happy ending."

Barton raised an eyebrow and just stared at her. Lauren refused to meet his gaze. Ultimately, he broke the silence and stood from the bed.

"Well, when you feel like telling the truth, I'm just across the hall," he said.

For some reason, Lauren got panicked as she watched him make his way towards the door. Making a split second decision, she said, "Wait!"

And he stopped. He pulled his hand back from the doorknob, turned around, and gave her an expectant look—one she didn't very much appreciate, but she was able to swallow back her pride.

When she was sure she wasn't going to snap, she raised her head and asked, "How did you do that?"

He walked deeper into the room, like before, but he didn't sit on the bed this time. "Do what?"

"How were you able to tell I was lying?" She had a moment of hesitation, before she added, "I am a very good liar. Not even Chiron can tell if I'm bluffing most of the time."

A smirk appeared on the agent's face. "I had my second thoughts, but I'm a spy," he said. "It's sort of in my job description to be able to call out a bluff."

"How unfortunate for me, then," Lauren muttered, earning her a light chuckle from Clint.

"Yeah, but you're stuck with me, so." When she remained silent, he sighed and pursed his lips. "Do you want to talk about the dream?"

Lauren didn't want to, but at the same time, she knew she _had_ to. Not because it was a life-or-death scenario, but because she felt like she was going to implode if she kept it to herself any longer. Besides, in one of the scenes that had played out before her, Clint had been in it—standing with her by the River Styx.

But why were they even there? And whose eyes had she been watching from, if not her own?

Her first guess was Ethan, since Apollo had said that the two of them were somehow linked. Perhaps it was really Ethan's dream and she had just intruded. But she had a second guess, one that, unfortunately, made more sense.

She'd been watching from Orion's point of view.

Her recurring dreams had been about _his_ death. She supposed it only made sense if the continuations would resume before _his_ eyes, and not her own.

She knew she had to confer with Chiron if she was going to successfully rule anything out. Meanwhile, Barton was still waiting for her answer. He crossed his arms, and Lauren sighed.

"Fine," she said. "I… I will tell you."

The agent looked relieved with her choice, for some reason.

She hesitated for a moment, adjusting her position on the bed, making it so that she was sitting cross-legged beneath the covers. Her eyes flicked to Clint and then to the foot of the bed in a silent gesture for him to take a seat.

He complied, slowly crawling onto the bed and sitting in the same position as Lauren; he left a respectable distance between them, which she was grateful for.

With some reluctance, Lauren began, "It started off the same: the scorpion chasing me, and then there was the voice telling me to look for Anegnoro."

"The one Apollo was talking about," said Clint, "The one in Crete."

Lauren nodded. "And then everything changed. One second, the monster was about to kill me, and the next Apollo was standing in front of me. He was smiling, for some reason."

"Does he ever _not_ smile?"

"Good question." She barely bit back a smile. "After that, the scene changed again, and…" She trailed off, wondering whether she should tell him what she saw next, or if she should lie—and if she lied, if he would be able to see through her façade again.

The agent just raised an eyebrow. "And…?"

"And…" She took a deep breath and steeled her gut. No, she wouldn't lie to him. "I saw myself, sitting by my mother's bedside."

"That's good, right?" Clint's eyes softened. "You'll get through all of this and see her again."

"No," said Lauren, smiling sadly and shaking her head. "We were in a hospital—I recognized where it was—and she is… well, you know, she is not as young as she used to be."

"I'd imagine not," Clint murmured, thoughtful. "Were you talking about anything in particular?"

She knew what they'd been talking about, even though no voices were heard during the vision. A small voice in her head spoke up: _Lie,_ it said.

"Nothing I could make out. Our voices were muffled." She watched his face for any sort of suspicious reaction, and wasn't disappointed. His eyebrows furrowed together and his lips curled into a frown. She forced a casual smile onto her face and said, "No, I am not lying. But the conversation did seem serious."

He still didn't look convinced, but seemed to think that it was a story for another day. "And what happened after that?"

 _Lie again._ "I saw the banks of the River Styx," she said. "Orion was in the water, and he was screaming in pain."

"Well, that's one part of the Prophecy perfectly decoded." He ran a hand over his face, erasing any hint of sleep that was still on his features. "Then?"

"Then I woke up," Lauren finished, "Screaming, as you so put it."

"Yeah, just be thankful that no one else got woken up and sent security."

She huffed, trying to hide her unease. She felt guilty about lying to him, which was completely absurd considering they weren't even very close yet. But there was something about him, the way he decided to trust her with his life so willingly, even still very early in the quest, that made her feel like she was betraying him somehow.

 _Stop it,_ she scolded herself. _You can talk to Chiron about it first, before making any assumptions. Perhaps it wasn't even you by that river. Perhaps... perhaps it was someone else._

It was highly unlikely. There were few demigods that had the same color of hair as her, even fewer who were female. And the person in her dream had been a girl accompanied by a man. Obviously, the man had been Agent Barton.

Feeling uncomfortable, she forced herself to look up at him. "I am going to take a shower," she said. "We won't be falling back asleep any time soon, so I suppose we should just start our day early."

"I suppose…" It was obvious that he wasn't buying it. With a raised eyebrow, he said, "Are you okay?"

She mustered up the audacity to forge a smile. "Tired," she replied, "but fine. A shower will do me good, I think, and a hot meal."

"Right…" A crease appeared on his forehead, and it remained there even as he turned around to take his leave. "Meet you downstairs?"

Lauren only nodded.

* * *

Once she was undressed and in the shower, she allowed herself to mull over just exactly where she and Barton stood in their quest.

They knew where the bane could be found—an inkling, at least. Crete. The problem was: they had no way to get to Crete.

Clint had sent for Tony earlier that night, and the billionaire had told them that he would make it to them before midnight—as was expected of him and his jet. But then he had called again only a few hours later, telling them that his jet's engine had frozen over—something totally unexpected from his technology.

But then, Lauren supposed that he couldn't exactly build something that could withstand a goddess' magic for very long, especially when he didn't even know what he was up against.

When Barton asked how Khione managed to find out that Tony was on his way to them, the answer had slowly dawned on Lauren.

"She is trying to keep us isolated," she had explained, "Isolated from the rest of S.H.I.E.L.D. There is no way she can disrupt the Iris Messaging system, so she's doing the second best thing."

"Why would she keep us isolated? Why not just kill us?"

Lauren bristled with growing fury. "Because she's confident that we will not be able to find the bane," she had growled. "And even more impossible to get it back to Camp in one piece without help."

Originally, their Plan B had been to ask Fury for help, to send their best jet to the Athens airport so it could take them to Crete. Lauren ultimately dismissed that idea as well, thinking that if Khione was keeping an eye on Tony, who knew what kind of security she had placed around S.H.I.E.L.D.?

The two of them settled on asking Fury for a few wads of cash—payment for the ferry they were going to take to Crete. Lauren wasn't satisfied with the idea, knowing that it would only be too easy for Khione to intercept the letter; unless she sent it via bank transfer, but Lauren hadn't seen an ATM machine anywhere yet.

Still, they could only hope.

And if Fury's loan got cut off from them… then there was always the option of becoming stowaways.

One recruit of Artemis had told Lauren a story once, when she had been forced to board a cruise liner because her dog had strolled on board and she had to look for him.

At such a memory, Lauren's spirits were lifted somewhat, but she was still more despondent than she would have wished.

Soon, she noticed that the shower was starting to run cold. Lauren turned the knob, stopping the cascade of water, and stepped out of the stall. She quickly got dressed—throwing on a pair of jeans and a forest green shirt—and returned to the bathroom barefoot.

Most of the steam had gone out of the room, but there was still enough, she knew, for an Iris Message. She made sure that the window was open, ensuring that at least _some_ natural light was within the room. She retrieved a drachma from the pocket of her parka and flipped it, watching as it spun within the steam before it disappeared.

With a resigned sigh, she said, "Oh Fleecy, do me a solid."

A light tinkling sound reverberated throughout the room. Then, a woman's voice said, **"What would you like to see?"**

"Chiron, in Camp Half-Blood."

Where steam was condensing on the mirror in front of her, an image flickered to life. It was the deck of the Big House, and for some reason, Chiron had fallen asleep in his wheelchair. He must have been keeping watch on the Camp.

For a moment, Lauren looked at the centaur with sad eyes. Their new dilemma was taking its toll on them all, but mostly on Chiron. Lauren could only imagine the things that went on in his head.

Eventually, she mustered the stomach to wake him.

"Chiron!" she said.

When he didn't even shift, she got a small glass from the cupboard and banged it once against the sink. The noise made her ears hurt, but Chiron woke up.

"Hm? What's… What…?" He looked at Lauren with bleary eyes for a long while, before finally realizing what he was looking at. "Lauren? Why are you calling so early?"

Lauren gazed at the centaur with solemn eyes, and then began retelling the events in her dream. She told him everything that happened-not feeding him false information like she had with Barton. She told him the few things that she had managed to decode, her fears, her doubts, and eventually, she also told him about Apollo's quick meeting with them the day before.

Chiron didn't seem very concerned about it. He had that distant look on his face as she told him about it. But when she said that she and Ethan were related with someone other than Apollo, his attention was caught.

"By whom else?" Chiron asked.

"I have no idea," said Lauren. "Perhaps Apollo had relations with my mother's sister, or a distant cousin…"

"Perhaps." He then frowned deeply. "Your nightmare has offered me much to think about, Lauren… At the same time, it's quite straightforward."

She returned his skeptic look. "You think that it tells of the future?"

"There is no other explanation." He removed the blanket from his lap, revealing the detailed mechanism of his wheelchair that hid his true form from the world. Using his arms as leverage, he pulled himself out of it and came to stand as a centaur. "It showed you standing before the Styx, but before that, it showed you speaking to both Apollo _and_ your mother. You know what that can point to."

She did. She knew exactly what that pointed to. She just couldn't see herself in _that_ situation.

"I can't bathe in the Styx, Chiron," she said. "I _can't_. Doing such would anger Artemis so much, she would banish me from the Hunt!"

"Yet even you have to see that this was not just a simple dream, Lauren. It's not something you can throw away, something you can forget—"

"So Hypnos is giving me these dreams to send me a message, is that it?"

"Yes!"

Lauren stared at the centaur in exasperation, and then turned around, afraid that she would say something she'd regret. Once she had reeled her patience back in, she faced him and stared at the ground, thinking for a long moment.

"Fine," she said. "Say I do accept the Curse of Achilles. What would my reasons be?"

Chiron's face turned grim. "I'd imagine it would be the back-up plan to whatever back-up plan Annabeth's already created. The last resort."

"You mean if we somehow are not going to be able to find the bane in time. If Orion comes and we are not ready."

"You make everything sound so dire and bleak." He smiled, and Lauren knew that he had meant for it to be reassuring, but she was able to see right through it, and that only made her feel worse.

"Khione, Tyr, and a Jotunn dictator have teamed up against us, Chiron," she said, "With an army of Frost Giants that is bigger and stronger than all of us, standing behind them. The Asgardians refuse to aid us. The Greeks and Romans _combined_ won't be enough to win this time. Tell me, how are we supposed to survive this one?"

Chiron only smiled again, though this one was intentionally rueful. He walked closer to the Iris Message, saying, "We're a tough bunch. And we've still got the Seven with us. Percy and Jason will make sure we don't lose."

"You hold so much faith in them."

"I could say the same for your belief towards Artemis. You'd die for her, wouldn't you?"

"A thousand times if I must." She met his gaze and smiled hesitantly. "How is the Camp?"

He ran a hand across his face. "The Fleece still fluctuates regularly, but we've developed a protection force that can divert the monsters. But each time the barrier falls, it takes Peleus a longer time to be able to melt the ice on the Fleece."

Lauren nodded. "So Khione is getting stronger."

"Or she's just taunting us." Chiron shrugged. "She already has the power. Maybe she's just biding her time."

She sincerely hoped that that wasn't the case, but it was highly probable. "And the boy? How is he?"

"You mean Ethan," Chiron said. "You just found out that you're more than just half-siblings. You could at least call him by his name, Lauren." The only acknowledgement she gave him was a purse of her lips and a subtle shake of her head, meaning _No._

The centaur released a breath. "He's doing fine… He can manage a sword now, but I can't promise anything when the war comes."

"I understand."

"He's better with a bow though," the centaur continued. "Actually, he's more than _better_. He's phenomenal. Will's taken to teaching him all he knows. It took me a while to convince Jill, but she's agreed to let some of the Hunters help with his training. Is that alright with you?"

"As long as he does not try anything."

"That's the last thing I think he'll do." Surprisingly, a grin appeared on his face. When Lauren raised an eyebrow, he explained, "Jill nearly killed him once, when he actually cut one of your girls."

Lauren's stare immediately turned murderous.

"It was during training," he quickly added. "He was still adjusting to the weight of the sword. I told him to give it a few swings, and he didn't see her standing so close by, so, you know, it just happened." The scowl remained on her face, and so Chiron said, "It was just a small gash across the cheek. Nothing some ambrosia couldn't fix."

It took her a while, but she eventually let go of the little, growing grudge—enough to be able to let out a tired sigh. She still caught the look Chiron gave her, though.

"What?"

"How are things with you?" he asked.

"All right," she replied. "We will head to Crete as soon as we catch a ferry."

He didn't need to know that they were going to be stowing away. Thankfully, he didn't ask for her to specify. "That's good," he said. "I trust your ambrosia supply isn't lacking?"

"It's not." _Seeing as I'm the only one eating it,_ she added in her head. "We will be back by the seventh night, if we are lucky."

"Okay."

The both of them then eased into a tense silence. Lauren was thinking deeply, trying to remember anything she might have forgotten to relay to the Camp Director, while Chiron just seemed content to stand there and wait for her to say something.

"I suppose that's all," she began.

"Lauren, could you please ask Agent Barton if he can call Fury?" Chiron suddenly said, stunning her into a few moments of silence.

"Of course," she said, eyebrows furrowing. "Why?"

"He needs to send the Avengers to Long Island Sound. All of them."

Again, "Why?"

"Well, they're going to be fighting in the battle, aren't they?"

"They are."

"Then they need to be able to see what's going on," said Chiron. "They all need to come here so Hazel can work the Mist away from their eyes."

Lauren pursed her lips. It was going to be difficult to convince Fury to send the Avengers into the Camp _alone_. It had to be so; she still didn't trust S.H.I.E.L.D., and she knew that Chiron felt the same.

She nodded. "I will tell Barton."

"Very well." As soon as he said this, the Iris Message flickered, and he smiled. "Perfect timing."

She nodded in agreement, and waved once. "Be safe, Chiron."

"You too, Lauren." He graced her with a small bob of his head. And just before the Iris Message flickered to nonexistence, he leaned closer to the image and said in a deathly serious voice, "And do not fail."


	21. Chapter 20 - Time Bomb

As it turned out, while Lauren had been speaking with Chiron in _her_ room, Barton had been in a conference with Fury and the rest of the Avengers in _his_.

Lauren knocked on Barton's door to see what was taking him so long, and he invited her. Suffice it to say, Lauren was surprised to walk in and find Clint sitting on his bed—dressed in full, proper attire—facing a hologram the size of the entire bedroom wall.

The image was being projected out of a black, round object, about the size of Lauren's hand. She didn't know what to call it; it looked to be something the Hephaestus kids would create, but a bit flashier.

Frowning, she looked to Clint with a subtly raised eyebrow. He raised his hands on either side of his head and shrugged innocently. "Hey, it wasn't my idea. I didn't even know that they'd be calling this early."

"Yeah, me neither," Tony said. His voice was a bit crackly, an effect caused by the hologram, no doubt. He rubbed his eyes and feigned a yawn.

Beside him, Banner managed a small smile. "Agent Barton was just informing us of what's been happening recently."

"Actually, no," Tony cut in, "He was telling _Fury_. We just happened to be in the same room."

"Unfortunately so," said Fury, ducking his head and rubbing his face in an annoyed gesture. Lauren sympathized with him. She was just thankful that Clint was more disciplined than his friends.

"All you need to know is that we have not found the bane," she said. "At least, not yet—"

"But that's not what I _want_ to know," he said, and Lauren scowled at having been interrupted. "Have you deciphered any other part of the Prophecy?"

"None that you haven't been informed of, I'm sure." Saying this, she cast a pointed look at Clint before returning Fury's indignant gaze. "Would you like for me to summarize everything for you, in case your memory is failing?"

His eye twitched. "For the sake of everyone else here, please."

"Holy shit," Lauren heard Tony mutter. "He said the magic word. Steve, did you hear that? He just—"

Whatever he was about to say next got caught in his throat, accompanied by a slight scuffling that seemed to be coming from beneath the table they were all sitting around.

Lauren rolled her eyes, but complied with the Director's wishes.

"Orion's bathed in the River Styx, which means that he is practically invincible," she explained. "He has allied with Khione, and Khione has allied with the Norse god Tyr, along with the Jotunns. He has also attached himself to the world tree, Yggdrasil. After four more nights, he will have universal knowledge, knowledge that he will undoubtedly use to eradicate the gods—whether it be Greek, Roman, or Aesir."

At this, Thor seemed to descend into an even fouler mood.

Lauren looked at him. "When the fighting begins, Odin has agreed to let three demigods and three gods into Asgard."

"The eldest children of the Big Three," said Fury, to which Lauren nodded.

After a short moment of hesitation, she decided to just come clean. "Also, Ethan may or may not be my full-blooded brother." It wasn't like such knowledge could be used against her. Brother or not, he was still a boy.

"How'd you figure that out?" Steve spoke up.

"Apollo came to us the other day, against the wishes of Lord Zeus," she replied. "He told me that we were related by someone other than him, though he did not specify."

Fury spoke up. "Agent Barton told us that you're going to hitch a ride to Crete. Is this true?"

"If by 'hitch a ride', you mean become stowaways, then yes, it is true."

"It's against the law, but you aren't on American soil anymore, so you have my approval."

"Clint, hey, buddy," Stark interjected. "I'd have picked you up, but that ice bitch ruined my ride. I swear, if I ever get to meet her, I'm gonna give her a piece of my mind. Maybe my number too, if she's as hot as everyone says she is—"

"I have spoken with Chiron," Lauren interrupted. "He agreed that the Avengers and perhaps a handful of S.H.I.E.L.D. representatives need to head down to Long Island Sound before the war begins."

"And why is that?" Fury said.

"Anyone who is going to participate in the battle need to have the Mist taken away from their eyes, otherwise you all will be going in blind. Literally."

The Director cast his one good eye on all of the people in the S.H.I.E.L.D. conference room with him, regarding them for a long moment. "They can go tomorrow," he told her. "Do you have any instructions?"

"Seeing as Stark can already see through the Mist, he should lead." (She did her best to ignore his childish fist pump.) "Mr. Stark, once you reach the top of the hill, do _not_ step past the statue of Athena—unless you want to be attacked by our dragon, that is."

He shook his head. "Yeah, no. No stepping past the border."

"There will be demigods stationed there anyway. Tell them who you are, and that Lauren Brooks sent you. They will escort you past Peleus and directly to the Big House, where Chiron will be waiting. Hazel will arrive soon after, I predict. You won't be there for more than an hour, if luck persists. Just hope that the Fleece does not fluctuate during your time there; otherwise, you will be in for a very interesting afternoon."

Though she was still regarding Fury's contemplative face, in her peripheral vision, she was able to catch Banner mutter something to Agent Romanoff. It was impossible to hear what he was saying, but for both of their sakes, she hoped that it hadn't been anything negative about her.

She made it a point to keep her pointed gaze on him. Eventually, he noticed. When he did, he ducked his head and averted his gaze. Romanoff glanced at her and raised an eyebrow.

Lauren stared at them for a moment longer, before finally looking away.

"If that's all," Fury said, "I'd like everyone to get back to work now. Until next time, Miss Brooks, Agent Barton."

Lauren inclined her head just before the hologram retreated into the S.H.I.E.L.D. device. Huffing, Clint snatched it off the table and threw it into his bag. He then gazed at her with questioning eyes.

"Not going easy on Banner, huh?" he said. "You wanna see him in action that bad?"

Her lips turned up in an amused smile.

* * *

Breakfast was first on the priorities list. The waiter that served them was not the one that Lauren had a deep aversion for.

In much greater spirits than the previous day (though still very drained), Lauren ordered a hearty meal of pancakes glazed over with hazelnut, sprinkled with raspberries, and accompanied with a bowl of extra whipped cream. Barton ordered a pile of chocolate-banana pancakes.

After noticing the bags beneath each other's eyes, the both of them ordered mugs of steaming hot coffee.

Lauren's mouth watered when the waiter returned with their orders; she had not realized just how hungry she was.

She and Clint scarfed down their breakfast in silence. Despite the relative emptiness of the restaurant, she made sure to still keep a respectable manner about her, though it was a bit difficult given her famished state and how delicious the food was. Several times, she caught Barton staring at her, and more than thrice, she had almost snapped at him.

When their coffees were the only things left to finish, Clint broke the stillness.

"So how do you feel about this stowing away business?" he said, taking a slow sip of his drink. "I thought you'd be more bothered by it."

The corner of her lips turned up a bit. "I've broken the law many times before, Agent Barton," Lauren said, "More than I can possibly count. Demigods and the government aren't known to mix very well together."

"Care to cite an example?"

She thought for a moment. "Do you remember when Mount St. Helens erupted, before getting totally destroyed just a few days after?"

"Yeah."

"The first eruption was caused by Percy Jackson. The volcano's eventual obliteration was caused by Typhon escaping from underneath the mountain, where his cage was."

Clint's eyebrows furrowed together. "Fury suspected that it wasn't a natural occurrence. We just had no idea what could have caused something so big."

With a sigh, she said, "A lot of things happen that are actually caused by demigods. You should understand that they are accidents most of the time, because most demigods don't know the extent of the abilities until it's too late. And now, you understand my reluctance on telling Fury about our existence."

"Well, he may seem like a complete ass sometimes, but he's not merciless," Barton said, earning a scoff from Lauren. "He does what he does to protect the world. That's why he started the Avengers Initiative—because he couldn't do it alone. I'm sure that beneath that cold exterior of his, he's actually thankful that he found out about demigods."

Lauren frowned. "What makes you say that?"

"Now he knows S.H.I.E.L.D.'s not completely alone," he replied. "With protecting the world, I mean. Since humans can't see the monsters past the Mist, I think he's happy now knowing that there are people helping him with his job."

"It is not exactly our choice," she muttered. "We were born into the job. No matter how much any of us try to run, we always end up having to face the reality of it all. When we are facing a monster, it is either kill or be killed."

Clint then became uncharacteristically quiet; Lauren glanced up to find him staring at her with curious eyes.

"It is Chiron's first lesson to every demigod," she explained. "With the life we live, it is also perhaps the most important."

* * *

Finding a cruise ship was easy enough. There was one leaving in the late afternoon that day, so Lauren and Barton had ample time to pack up all their belongings and prepare for Crete.

In the end, there were three more hours left to kill, (though in two hours, the boat would arrive at the docks.) She suggested that they make a stop at the Parthenon. It would have been reconstructed by now, though not completely. Barton accepted her proposition.

Bringing their light baggage with them, they set off for the temple.

By that time of day, there were already several people out of their houses. Morning had passed, and it was time for work. But even so, the number of civilians roaming the streets was considerably low. The weather wasn't exactly perfect for taking leisure strolls.

It seemed that Chiron was right: Khione was biding her time, taunting them.

She had enveloped the entire city in a blizzard—not enough to be dangerous, but Lauren's parka was barely keeping her from turning into a human sculpture.

The locals weren't very suspicious of the snow, but soon they would be; snow occurrences weren't supposed to last for more than three consecutive days, and the ice in the waters were yet to thaw.

A group of street children ran past Lauren and Barton. They were playing chase, which Lauren knew was foolish of them.

One received his consequence when he tried turning a sharp corner whilst sprinting, resulting in him slipping on the moist pavement and landing on his side. He was able to keep his head from hitting the ground by bringing his arm up. There would be bruises there soon, though.

While Lauren was more than content with just walking past the boy, Barton had other ideas.

"Here," he said, offering a hand to the boy.

The boy looked more scared than confused. He stared at Barton's hand as if he was going to hit him with it. Lauren's heart clenched at the thought. Though the child before her was a male, he was still young—probably not even old enough to develop mature feelings such as love yet. And Lauren did not condone child abuse.

Barton looked down at the boy for a few long moments, his face neutral. And then he leaned further down and grabbed the boy's forearm by himself. He pulled him up with what seemed to be no effort at all. The boy was shaky on his feet at first, but then he gained his wits about himself.

Still wide-eyed, he stared at Clint. The agent clapped a hand on his shoulder, and Lauren noticed his knees buckle. She smothered a smile.

"You okay?" said Barton.

The street boy only stared.

Clint repeated himself, but it made no difference. He looked to Lauren with a raised eyebrow.

" _The man is asking if you are hurt_ ," she easily translated.

The boy shook his head.

" _Then run along. And tell your friends to play something else._ "

To her surprise, the boy replied, and his voice still had a childish quality about it. " _I am sorry for bothering you and your friend, missus,_ " he said, and hearing such titles from him only confirmed her suspicions of him coming from a very strict household. " _We are just not very used to the weather is all. It has never snowed so much here._ "

Lauren could sense that he wanted to say more, but he closed his mouth at the last second. The fright returned to his face, and his eyes flickered to the bronze sword hanging from Barton's waist.

Lauren's gaze shifted to the bronze sheath, in plain view, but no one had ever paid attention to it before. Most people would see it as just a rod, or a walking stick. The boy saw differently, and she knew why. Her eyes widened slightly.

Meanwhile, Barton remained in his confused state. His hand moved to rest on the hilt of the sword, eyebrows scrunching together.

The street boy immediately started backing away. " _Please! Don't hurt me!_ "

"What's he saying?" Barton demanded.

Lauren swatted his hand away from the sword and raised one of her arms up in the air. She spoke quickly, " _We aren't going to hurt you. Stay calm._ "

The boy vigorously shook his head. Before she could say more, he whirled around and started running away from them.

" _Di immortales,_ " Lauren said under her breath, frustrated as she swiped at her forehead.

"What the hell was that?" said Barton.

"He was able to see through the Mist," Lauren said. "He saw the sword and got the wrong impression."

It took him a moment to comprehend what she'd just said. "He was a demigod?"

"Yes." She sighed in exasperation. "Whatever satyr got stationed here, he is not doing a very good job of retrieving demigods."

"Should we go after him?"

She shook her head. "It is best if we don't. It is not our job, anyway."

"Doesn't he have that scent thing that Thor mentioned? Won't monsters be drawn to him?"

"They will, but he is capable of defending himself. Most of the time, a demigod becomes introduced to the world behind the Mist by being stalked or attacked by a monster… A baptism of fire, as Artemis would put it."

Agent Barton hummed in acknowledgement but said nothing more. Lauren's train of thought returned to the boy; she wondered how many other demigod children could have passed her by—for there were a fair amount of street children in Athens—and how many of them could be attacked by a monster.

Was it really right for her to leave them be, ignore their predicament, and let them wait for the satyrs to find them? By doing so, would any of them die? Would she then be faulted with allowing the ever-descending demigod population to go even lower?

Despite her previous confidence in her actions, Lauren could not help but to feel guilty. Years ago, she used to be the same as that street boy: lost, unsure, and afraid. When a satyr from Camp Half-Blood had come to her, she became even more so, but had gained some shred of dignity in knowing that she was meant for greater things.

"To be afraid is natural. It is one of the things that motivate us," Artemis had told her once—before the Hunters entered the fray in the War with Gaea, Lauren remembered. "But to let it take control, that is what leads to total obliteration."

Lauren had half a mind to relay those words to Chiron so that he could then say it to whatever new demigod stumbled into Camp. It would help if each demigod had the same bearings as the Hunters.

After a few more minutes of walking in companionable silence, the Parthenon finally came into view. Seeing its weathered state made Lauren nostalgic for reasons she couldn't comprehend. She had only ever seen the temple once before, and it had been in a worse state than it was in now.

Perhaps it was because, the last time Lauren had seen it, a large amount of the Hunters had still been alive. Thalia, Phoebe, Senna…

Shaking herself from her daze, Lauren turned to Barton to find a rather blasé look on his face. She didn't know whether to be amused or to be offended.

"Much of the gods' power can be found here," she offered, "even if it does not look like much."

"I can tell," he said, making her raise an eyebrow.

"How so?"

"I don't know… It just feels… weird—like you said, it has this aura about it that gives me the impression that it's… _alive_."

In sheer curiosity, she tilted her head. "And yet you seem unfazed. Why is that?"

"Oh no, I'm plenty impressed. This is my 'holy crap that is so cool' look. Can't you tell?" He looked at her with the same plain expression he always wore.

Lauren scoffed, lip curling up in amusement. As she looked ahead, she took a deep breath and allowed herself to soak in the view.

The Parthenon itself was weathered from all the years it had endured. The tall, marble pillars were chipped. Some were leaning the wrong way, and it was a miracle that the entire thing was still in one piece… more or less.

Heaps of white stone littered the ground surrounding the structure. Lauren knew that their reason for being there had been to discourage tourists from getting too close, but that plan had eventually proved to be fruitless. Sightseers, young and old, were climbing over the shingles, slowly and surely making their way towards the temple.

Sharing a look with Barton, she started towards the main structure. And because the two of them were in much better condition than the rest of the people, they were able to make it to the Parthenon in little more than five minutes.

With slow, careful steps, Lauren climbed the stairs into the temple. She regarded the groups of people taking pictures with their cameras; some children were even running around the vast space. She scowled at them in disapproval.

Upon arriving at the anterior of it, she knelt in reverence and placed a hand on the cool surface of the dais.

A thought ran across her head, that perhaps some would find what she was doing to be quite odd. But then she recalled that, though few, there were still locals who did it all the time.

"Whatever is going on up there, Lady Athena," she murmured, "I implore you: Grant me the wisdom and the strength to finish this Quest, and to win this war… And tell my Lady Artemis that her guidance has been sorely missed."

As she was standing, the shrill yell of a child made her ears prick. She whirled around, looking for the source, and found a little girl wailing in front of her mother. Lauren was shocked to see a thin stream of blood travelling down her back and soaking into her dress.

Her senses went into autopilot; she began searching the thickening crowd for anything suspicious. But again, her attention was caught by yet another child's cry. And this was followed by two more.

Her eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. "What in Hades?"

"Two o'clock," said Agent Barton.

Lauren carefully zeroed in on the given location and found a rather tall man hobbling down the steps of the Parthenon. She glanced down for barely a second, and her breath caught at her throat. Instead of legs, the man had a pair of wolf's legs, but they functioned as how a human's would. There was a skip in his step too, as if he had just won the lottery, and her heart dropped.

From the corner of her eye, she saw that Agent Barton was about to make chase—for he had definitely noticed the same as she—but she grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks.

"What?" he said.

"We have to leave." She held fast onto his arm and began leading him out of the Parthenon in a brisk walk.

"Lauren, what is it? What kind of monster was that?"

"That was a _Mormo_ ," she muttered. They had reached the sea of rubble; she had to let go of his arm for her to be able to traverse safely. "One of the very few that have managed to stay alive for so long. They are spirits—Greek spirits—and companions to the goddess Hecate. They do not hunt demigods, nor do they kill, but wherever they appear, trouble is sure to follow."

"It hurt those kids though," he said.

She nodded. "Children's blood is one of the key components that make Hecate as powerful as she is, yet a _Mormo_ never takes more than a vial from each child. But that is not our main concern."

"More bad news?"

"Unfortunately," she responded. "A _mormo_ 's presence works to strengthen a demigod's scent. And seeing as I was not even a mile apart from it—and within the Parthenon, no less…"

She trailed off, knowing that he already understood what she was trying to explain. He wasn't one of Fury's top agents for nothing.

"We'll head straight for the docks," he said. By that time, they were past the rubble and jogging back into the more populated part of the city. "Hopefully the smell of salt and fish will be enough to mask your scent."

Lauren was surprised with the hint of humor she heard in his voice. "This is bad, Agent Barton," she told him, irked. "Very bad. With all that has happened these past few days, I cannot be sure if things can get any better."

"Oh, they'll definitely get worse," he replied.

 _Thank you for your optimism,_ she thought, sighing in exasperation. At the very least, nothing was chasing them… as of the moment.


	22. Chapter 21 - Stowaways

The yacht was an hour late.

By the time it arrived, the sun was already on its way down. Lauren's feet hurt from standing around for so long, and so did her backside, for they'd thought it best to wait for the ship in a secluded area—meaning, the only seats they had were slippery railings.

She did her best to ignore the wet feeling in the back of her jeans that soaked onto her legs, instead focusing on the yacht.

It wasn't very big, nor very grand, but it looked cozy enough. People were already starting to board, and Lauren wondered where she and Barton were supposed to stow away _on_. The guards waiting at the main boarding entrance didn't appear to be very gullible, and she and Barton hadn't bothered to forge fake IDs or tickets…

As if being able to read her thoughts, Barton pointed at the boat.

"You see that?" he said. "They're taking the passengers' luggage somewhere. As far as I know, the cargo hold is found in the interior of the hull, one of the more unpopulated parts of the ship. We have to sneak past the guards to get there, but it'll be worth it. Warm, comfortable, 50/50 chance of finding something useful in any of the bags." He smirked lightly. "That's where we stay until we reach Crete."

She cast him a sceptic glance. "How do you plan on getting _onto_ the ship?"

He unstrapped his bag from his shoulders and pulled out a length of rope from one of the pockets. He presented it to her, and she slowly took it from him, staring at it with quizzical eyes.

Eventually, she raised her head and met his gaze.

"Do I hang myself with this?" she asked.

"Funny." As sarcastic as it sounded, the corner of his lip curled up a bit when he spoke again. "One of us jumps onto the ship before it leaves and ties this to the railing. Hopefully, that'll be done before the captain starts up the engine."

"What do we do with the rope when it has been tied to the railing?"

"We hang." Upon seeing the look on her face, Barton quickly added, "Figuratively. We wait for the ship to leave, and by that time, most of the guards would be on deck keeping an eye on the passengers. The rope's long, so it should be enough to hold the both of us. And then there's just the matter of getting into the cargo hold. So…" He gestured to the rope in her hands. "You wanna do it or should I?"

"I will do it." Lauren sighed, curling the rope loosely over one shoulder. "I never was fond of waiting around."

He smirked. "Well, you won't have to. Looks like they've finished boarding all the passengers." He was right; the ramp had been pulled back onto the yacht, and the guards had vacated the entryway. "They'll be doing inventory right now, seeing which passengers came and which didn't. They'll finish in about… five minutes."

Lauren and he were already making their way down the pier. "Where will you be waiting?" she said.

"Here," he replied. "Give me a signal and I'll make my way towards you."

She nodded. "What signal?"

He brought his hands to his lips and imitated a bird's call, the very same one she and the Hunters used during hunts in the wild. "Can you do it?" asked Barton.

"I can." She took a moment to gather her thoughts before saying, "Listen for my signal."

She took one end of the rope and placed it in her mouth, biting down on it. Then, she took a running start—making sure to keep her footing in spite of the slippery wood—and leaped into the air.

The distance of her jump was long enough for her to reach the hull of the ship, but not high enough for her to directly end up on the railings.

Any semblance of hesitation or second-guessing (like wondering whether many people were seeing her haphazrdly jump onto a deluxe yacht) flew out the window when she started slipping from the hull.

Lauren cursed aloud as she struggled to get a handhold.

In a burst of luck, her fingers caught on the fluorescent lights encircling the upper hull of the ship. She held fast, heart beating erratically in her panic. The temperature of the water beneath her feet was below freezing; she wouldn't survive falling into such extreme temperatures.

Grunting in exertion, she adjusted her grip on the fluorescent light. There was another tube a few feet higher. Gathering her courage, she heaved herself up and was able to grab it. But one hand slipped.

A startled yelp escaped her and the end of the rope slipped out of her mouth. She was able to keep the entire length from falling into the sea, but very nearly fell in her self.

Vaguely, she heard Barton yell something at her. She ignored him. And out of instinct, she pulled herself higher onto the fluorescent, allowing her feet to touch the secondary fluorescent below her.

She made sure the rope was safe before beginning to make her way to the front of the ship. Less people would be able to see them hanging there, for the yacht was facing away from the pier.

Her arms shook from the effort of having to keep a firm hold on the fluorescent for so long. Still, she was determined to prevail. She went all the way to the end of the bow. Once there, she heaved herself up again, wrapping the crook of her elbow around the bottom part of the railing.

A horn sounded on-deck, making her ears ring. It was her signal that her 5 minutes had gone up.

As she was struggling to retrieve the length of rope, she did her best bird call with only one hand. It didn't come out as impressive as it would have been had she used both hands, but they were short on time. Clint had to make his way to her even as she was securing the rope.

Her hands felt numb from the cold, so she fumbled with the end of the rope for a few seconds before finally finishing the knot. She tugged on it to make sure that it was secure.

Satisfied, she began crawling down the length of it, only stopping when she was a foot or two away from the end.

The rope swayed, but she was positive that she hadn't moved a muscle. Alarmed, she uncurled one hand from the rope and reached for her hunting knife. She was about to pull it out when she realized that it was only Agent Barton settling himself onto the rope.

"That was close." He glanced down at her with raised eyebrows and said, "You couldn't have done that any quicker?"

Lauren glared daggers at him but chose to ignore his statement. "Did anyone see you?"

"Sure," he said. "Plenty of people saw you too. They didn't really seem to care though. Greeks are weird."

After a moment of wondering what could have possibly garnered such a careless reaction from them, she asked, "Was my whistle heard?"

"'Course."

"Ah…"

He looked at her funny. "What is it?"

"Greek sailors believe that whistling is a cause of misfortune, when you do it on or near a ship. They see it as a sign of taunting the winds. I don't know why I did not remember before."

"… We'll only get bad luck if we were _intentionally_ taunting the winds, right? I mean, you didn't mean anything by it."

Lauren tilted her head exaggeratedly, looking out at the decent sunset. "I suppose, if the wind gods are in a good mood. But I am a demigod, Agent Barton." Then she looked at him. "Unfortunately, demigods are walking magnets of bad luck."

As she said this, there came the dull roaring of an engine from within the yacht. The vessel trembled before it began moving forward.

The rope swayed a bit from the momentum it received, which resulted in Lauren and Clint gently bumping against the hull several times. Lauren was adjusting her hold on the rope when she heard footsteps—distant at first, then it became evident that they were getting nearer and nearer.

Despite their hidden position, Lauren shifted in unease. She prayed that no one would notice the rope; she had made the knot as small and unnoticeable as possible.

The footsteps came as close as they could possibly get, before continuing onto the other side of the ship. Lauren released a shaky breath.

"We'll wait another minute or two," whispered Barton.

In the course of those few given minutes, Lauren counted at least five more crewmen walking past their destination. She knew not where they were headed or where they came from, but she hoped there were no more of them.

Barton predicted that it was a straight shot towards the cargo hold—just down the hall towards the very back of the ship—but if they were to be intercepted whilst sneaking down the corridor, they'd have to take a detour, and that would prove to be most interesting indeed.

"Alright," Barton said, glancing down at her from over his shoulder. "I'll go first, you follow right behind me, got it?"

Lauren gave a single brisk nod of acknowledgement. Barton began scaling the rope, with her following close behind him. They clambered onto the deck, having to hold the railings to pull themselves off the side of the ship and onto the steady floor.

A strong draft blew against them, hitting Lauren's face and making her feel even more numb. Clint visibly shuddered as he adjusted the straps of his bag on his shoulders. They started on their way down the corridor, aware that they were completely out in the open.

Lauren felt so exposed, and she had to remind herself to keep calm. If a crew member or a passenger intercepted them, she would need a cool head in order to get herself and Barton out of such a mess.

The both of them remained in a crouching position, their heads in the same height as the railing. Once they reached the halfway point, Lauren's fear came true. And it was in the form of two people who looked to be crew members.

A man and a fair-haired woman—they were facing each other, giving Lauren and Clint a moment to hide themselves behind a stack of boxes. Lauren made sure to keep her breathing shallow and to keep her head down. Barton followed suit. By unspoken agreement, they decided against knocking out the crew members and just waiting for them to pass.

But they didn't pass, and by the course of their conversation, they didn't seem to be planning to do so any time soon.

" _How are you, Edan?_ " asked the woman. " _It's been a while since we talked._ "

" _Aleksy still refuses to give me a break, but other than that, everything is fine,_ " the man named Edan replied. " _The home is just as it should be._ "

There came a chuckle from the woman. " _And how is little Vali?_ "

" _As feisty as ever… He took his first steps just yesterday._ "

" _That's wonderful news, Edan! Congratulations._ "

" _Thank you very much, Nadia._ "

There were several moments of silence, in which Barton shared an exasperated look with Lauren. He mouthed, "Do you understand them?" She answered with a single nod of her head.

She wished for Nadia and Edan's conversation to end soon; if it did not, then she would end it herself—for she knew what this small chatter was leading up to. She could hear it in the uneasy way Nadia phrased her words.

Eventually, said woman spoke again, " _And… how is Rachel?_ "

Edan was quiet for a beat before he answered, " _She is fine, now. Her sickness passed a few days ago._ "

" _That is good…_ "

" _What am I going to do, Nadia?_ "

" _Why? What's wrong?_ "

Lauren turned around with careful steps and looked for anything she could use as a distraction. Sitting by the wall, though not behind the boxes, was a bottle. Thankfully, the two crew members were too distracted to notice Lauren snaking her arm out and taking the bottle.

" _I am a married man, Nadia,_ " said Edan. _"Every night, I come home to my wife, who I love, and see my child there in her arms. We are happy… Yet when I come here, to work with you by my side, it feels… wrong._ "

A breath of laughter escaped Nadia, but even Lauren could hear that it was half-hearted. " _We are just friends._ "

" _It does not seem like that… Often, I have—_ "

Lauren had heard enough. She drew her arm back and chucked the bottle down the hall where she and Clint had just come from; she made sure to not throw it too high, fearing that Nadia or Edan would notice that it had come from behind a seemingly vacant stack of boxes.

The bottle spun in the air for a second or two before breaking against the floor. The noise was enough to catch the attention of the two crew members.

" _What was that?_ " said Edan, and then he was rushing down the hall to check. Soon, Nadia followed. Lauren wasted no time in forging onward to the cargo hold.

As Clint followed behind her, he asked, "What the hell was that?"

"They weren't leaving any time soon, so I cut their chat short for them," Lauren replied. There must have been something in the way she spoke, though, that tipped him off about the emotions raging inside her.

He sped up so he was slightly in front of her, but continued on his brisk pace. "What were they talking about?" he asked.

"Nothing important."

"You seem pretty upset about it. I'd consider it important."

His voice held a hint of a jest. Nevertheless, Lauren bristled in anger and gave Barton a withering look. "I was doing _both_ of them a favor. Now will you please stop talking and help me look for the cargo hold? We are nearing the back of the ship; it should be here somewhere."

She heard Barton's sigh of exasperation, but he stopped pestering her. She had half a mind to inform him of what Edan and Nadia were actually talking about, and perhaps she would, once the both of them were safely concealed in the cargo hold.

Luckily, they didn't encounter any more crew members, and they found the entrance to the cargo hold with little to no trouble at all.

"This is it," said Barton, staring at a short flight of stairs leading downwards.

At the bottom of the steps was a metal door with a large circular mechanism extruding from the middle. Beside the door was a numbered keypad. Lauren's heart dropped at the sight of it, for she had no guesses as to what the password could be, but Barton merely said, "Give me a minute."

He unstrapped his bag from his shoulders and rummaged around for a bit before pulling out a spray of clear blue liquid. He sprayed it onto the keypad and, after a few moments, neon fingerprints the same color as the liquid appeared on four given numbers on the keypad—specifically: 4, 7, 9, and 1. Barton only needed to try three different combinations before there was a barely audible _click_.

He turned the circular mechanism clockwise, and the door opened.

With an exhale of relief, Clint gestured into the cargo hold and muttered to Lauren, "After you."

Hesitantly, Lauren stepped through the doorway.

The room was dark; the only sources of light were little bulbs implanted on the walls that emitted green light, though they were so small that they barely made any difference. Even so, the threshold was spacious. Bags of luggage were strewn about the floor, each with name tags clipped on the handles.

Lauren scanned the room with trepidation, wondering whether someone other than them had decided to stow away on this ship as well. She took a minute to check every nook and cranny and was satisfied to find that they were the only ones within the cargo hold.

Meanwhile, Clint had closed the door. Lauren turned to him in alarm and he held his palms up to her.

"Relax," he said. "If I leave it open, someone'll get suspicious and walk in and see us. Besides…" He pointed at something above her head, and she looked up to see a vent. Large enough for them to crawl through. "That's our escape route."

Lauren watched as he walked around the room and eventually stopped in front of a bright pink gym bag. He unzipped it, gazed down at the contents, and then looked back up at her.

"You should make yourself comfortable," he said. "It's gonna be a couple of hours before we reach Crete."

Five to eight hours, if her memory proved correct. It occurred to her that there was no way she was going to be able to send an Iris message to camp that night. The only source of water was outside, and it was going to be a challenge to muster up enough light without getting caught.

She wasn't willing to risk it; she found comfort in the fact that Chiron and Jill were people with very good common sense, and so they wouldn't panic… Hopefully.

Across from where Clint was currently searching through the bags of the passengers, Lauren settled onto the floor in a cross-legged position with her back against the wall. She unstrapped her backpack and the case of her bow and quiver of arrows, and placed them beside her.

With a weary sigh, she tipped her head back until it hit the wall, and she stared at the ceiling. Everything was silent except for the sound of Barton's hands digging into a variety of luggage.

Lauren was about to reprimand him for what he was doing, her morals nearly getting the best of her, when he suddenly pulled out a bag of chips.

"Looks like we're not the only ones breaking the rules today," he said, a smirk trailing up his lips. He tossed the bag to her, which she caught. She looked down at it with some form of reluctance.

Her stomach growled, goading her on, and she ultimately gave in. The only reputation she wanted to hold was with Artemis, and the goddess certainly wouldn't be upset with her for eating someone else's smuggled bag of _chips_. There was plenty of food on the yacht; the chips wouldn't be missed.

As she was munching on the crispy pieces, Barton said, "Just save some for me, alright? I'm gonna look for something that's _actually_ useful."

Lauren muttered an affirmative through the mouthful of chips, placing the bag by her legs to allow for a more comfortable position. She resorted to staring at the far wall, absentminedly chewing on the junk food and letting her mind wander.

Five out of the given nine nights had come and gone. The coming night would be the sixth, affording them three more days before the war began… That wasn't going to be much; however, Lauren supposed that their search would be made easier with the knowledge that Orion's bane would be found near the Anegnoro tree.

Still, they had to find out where this tree was, _find_ the bane, and take it back to Camp Half-Blood, all in three days. Lauren wasn't liking their chances.

In her anxiety, she didn't notice how she had already eaten half of the chips in the bag. She reeled her hand back and wiped it on her jeans before placing both hands on her lap. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and very nearly fell asleep when she remembered the events that had occurred only minutes ago.

"It is astonishing, you know," she said. Her words were directed at Clint, and though he raised his head, she did not take her eyes off from the far wall. "While so many demigods—and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents as well, I suppose—are striving so hard to keep this world from falling into darkness, the mortals go about their everyday lives worrying about the most insignificant things."

The agent was quiet for a long moment, and then he shifted a bit, catching on. "Is this about those two crew members?"

Tearing her gaze away from the wall, she stared at him. "They were friends. Very good friends, from what I could assume. The girl had feelings for the man, but the man was married and had a child. I did not jest about doing both of them a favor. The girl was about to tell him about her feelings, and that would have ruined everything. For the both of them."

"Are you speaking from personal experience or…?"

Her eyes flashed. "I'm _tired_ how unfair it all is? At least the humans get some semblance of happiness. They do not know of the possibility that the world can end next month, or weeks from now, or _today_. They get to think about what schools they want to go to, and what they will cook for their family's dinner, and they get to worry about their _relationships._ _They_ do not have to walk around with the weight of mankind on their shoulders, while we have to do so practically on a daily basis. And what do we get in return for handling such a responsibility? Nothing. Not even a proper place to call home."

Lauren kept her mouth shut after that. She had said too much already. She hadn't been supposed to say _anything_ , but it all came spilling out anyway. And Barton was the one to hear it, of all people.

Silence reigned between them for the better part of a minute.

And then he said, "How long have you been feeling like this?"

"Long enough," she muttered.

He sighed and seemed to think for a second. "From all the years I've spent working for Fury, I got to learn one thing by myself, and that's to never expect something to be given back to you."

When Lauren didn't speak, only nodded for him to continue, he did.

"You listen for orders, you do a good job, and that's it. They'll acknowledge you, but they won't thank you. And that's got to be enough, 'cause it's your job. It's your job to protect them, and if you don't do that job, then there won't be anything left to fight for. And… well, what kind of life would that be?"

His words struck her to the core, and she mulled them over for the next few minutes. They spent their time in each other's presence in stillness, and neither of them seemed to mind. Barton took the bag of chips from her and chewed on its contents, so casually that it was as if he had said nothing at all.

Lauren eyed him from afar, not even trying to be subtle about it, until he finally noticed.

He easily met her gaze and, through a mouthful of chips, he said, "Have you heard of a guy named Dylan Thomas?"

She frowned. "No."

"He wrote this poem. I think you'd like it. You mind if I recite a few lines?"

Her lips curled up slightly. "I did not have you pegged for the literary type, Agent Barton."

He smirked, cleared his throat, and then began, "Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay; rage, rage against the dying of the light. Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, and learn, too late, they grieved it on its way; do not go gentle into that good night."

Lauren expected him to continue, but that must have been it.

"It seems interesting," she commented.

"And that's only two stanzas." He raised an eyebrow at her. "Did you figure out what it means?"

"I think so."

"Good. You could check the whole thing out when this is all over. It'll give you a better understanding of how superheroes are supposed to live."

She scoffed. "You may be what the mortals call a _superhero_ , but I am not."

"Sure you are. _Superhero_ , definition: good guy with superhuman powers. You're basically superhuman—no doubt about that, since your dad's a Greek god and everything. And you're a good guy, as far as I can tell."

"But—"

"I'm pretty sure this Quest we're on right now is some heroic, good guy business. We _are_ risking our lives and all. So you, my friend, are a superhero."

He made a show of giving her a onceover; the look in his eyes was completely innocent, so Lauren did her best to keep from chastising him.

Rolling her eyes, she said, "Whatever you say."

She made a show of seeming indignant about the whole thing, when in truth, she was actually quite grateful that he'd said such things. Her spirits had been lifted—and the uplifting had been sorely needed.

With the looming threat of the destruction of the gods, accompanied by the nightmares that plagued her, she wasn't sure how much of her sanity was still left.


	23. Chapter 22 - Waylaid

**NIGHT 6**

 _It is well into the evening; darkness has long descended onto this forest and me. Tree branches peek out from their trunks like arms, scratching my face as I thunder past them. Behind me, I hear the monster crush the tree between its pincers._

 _I reach back again and pull another arrow; my heart drops when my finger grazes only one. The last one._

You must make it count, _I tell myself._

 _I steel my gut, plant my foot, and push upwards off the ground. I grip the tree branch that nearly impales my head and pull myself onto its shaky hold, crouching there with my arrow already nocked._

 _It is getting closer, now; my hand is shaking as I grip my bow, and I force it to still. I only have one shot. The tip of my arrow hones in on the creature's unmoving stinger, and I hold my breath._

 _The monster is ten feet away when I let my arrow fly. A sharp clicking sound and it scrapes past the monster's tail._

" _No…"_

 _I whirl around and make a move to jump back onto the ground, but the creature snaps at the trunk of the tree and I fall with it._

 _I expect to land on solid ground, but instead, my feet crash through the surface of a body of water. Iciness cuts through my bones like a knife. Water enters my nostrils due to my unpreparedness and I struggle to come back to my senses. It proves difficult. The water is freezing._

 _My limbs slowly turn numb as I fight to return to the surface. Yet as I am about to reach it, I feel something catch my ankle in a vice-like grip and immediately start pulling me down. I look down, searching for what creature has captured me. I see nothing._

 _Wildly, I begin to thrash against whatever is holding me, but its hold on me does not waver. The surface gets farther and farther away, and my lungs begin to burn. The cold claw of fear encircles my heart; the time comes when there is nothing but darkness._

 _I am certain that I am dead. And then comes this rippling pain in my stomach, and my senses come back to me all at once._

* * *

Lauren gasped awake, and the sudden intake of air scratched her throat. Barton, who had not moved from his spot across the hold, remained unmoving and raised an eyebrow at her. "Nightmare again?"

She regarded him warily and scrambled to her feet. "Water…"

"Oh, hang on." He retrieved his bag and zipped it open.

"No!" That caught his attention. Lauren began pacing around the cabin, trying to make sense of the events in her dream. "Water… The ship…" Her head snapped up and she met Barton's gaze. "The ship is going to sink."

He got to his feet as well, though a bit slower than she had. "Lauren," he said. "You've been asleep for hours. Nothing even remotely weird has happened."

The uncomfortable ache in her stomach had not disappeared, and she was certain that that counted as something. Her demigod senses were going haywire as well. _Something_ was going to happen. Very, very soon.

"I am _telling_ you, the ship is going to sink—!"

Anything else she was about to say got caught in her throat when the feeling of unease grew worse, and there came a violent spike in her demigod senses.

"Barton, we have to leave." As she said this, she shouldered her bags and began stacking trolley bags on top of each other in order to reach the vent that sat a few inches below the ceiling.

Clint spoke up, about to question her again, and she whirled around and yelled at him, "Stop questioning me! Something is going to happen and we will die if we do not move _now_."

He stared at her with that familiar hesitation on his face. Before either of them could say anything, there was a deep rumbling that seemed to come from beneath the ship. Then Lauren and Barton were thrown off balance by a sudden tremor. She was certain that every passenger on the ship had experienced the same thing, and she cursed under her breath.

"Sea monster," she concluded, finishing with the luggage pile. Quickly, she clambered onto it. "We have to get to the deck and fight it off, or it's going to sink the entire ship and kill everyone on board."

Barton doubted her no longer. He immediately scrambled onto the top of the pile and helped her wrench the cover off the vent. Lauren pulled herself through the opening and began crawling down the channel, only glancing over her shoulder to make sure that Clint was following.

"Tight fit," he grunted.

While they continued down the flue—with Lauren deciding to trust her instincts regarding which turns to take—they came across a ladder leading upwards; it went on and on, and Lauren knew that it led all the way up to the deck.

With Barton's agreement, they hastily began scaling it.

More low wails and rumbles came from outside the yacht, and they echoed into and down the vents, sending uneasy shivers down Lauren's spine. The monster, whatever it was, sounded old and menacing. The boat shook again, once or twice, afterwards, but never too strongly.

The ladder eventually cut off and it led to another horizontal vent. Lauren noticed that everything was much brighter and came to the conclusion that, indeed, they had arrived at the upper deck.

As she resumed crawling down the flue, the ship trembled yet again. This time, it was vigorous enough to rock the boat to and fro. The potency of the tremor forced a startled Lauren to hit the side of the flue. The momentum caused her to crash through the wall and land in an unfamiliar room.

She had landed on her side; the impact caused a deep ache to appear at the side of her ribcage.

Grimacing, Lauren pushed herself up, surveying the room and finding that she had landed in the dining section. Passengers were gawking at her from their seats, murmuring to each other. Most of them had frightened looks on their faces and Lauren knew that everyone had felt the tremors.

There was a series of metallic noises coming from the vent above her head. Barton jumped down from the opening she had created and regarded her with serious eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

She gave him a brisk nod; her thoughts flew by a hundred miles an hour as she struggled to figure out how they were going to save the passengers. Hurriedly, she approached one of the waiters who had also been staring; said, " _Are there lifeboats on this ship?_ "

" _Who… W-what?_ " said the waiter; a crease formed on his forehead.

Lauren took a step closer, and she must have looked threatening, for he took a step back. " _The lifeboats! Where are they?_ "

" _L-lifeboats…_ " He visibly shook himself from his daze and was silent for a moment, thinking. " _They are outside in the middle of the deck, in a compartment._ "

The second after he said this, alarms went off all around the boat.

Passengers began to panic, though none of them went running around. Lauren thought it best to use this to her advantage.

" _Gather all the passengers in this part of the ship and take them to where the lifeboats are,_ " she said." _Prepare the rafts, but do not drop them into the sea yet. Wait for my signal. Go!_ "

He dropped the tray he had been holding in his trembling hands and went off to follow her instructions. Lauren strode forward and pulled another waiter aside, questions leaving her mouth in a flurry. " _Are there speakers on this ship? Connected to a microphone?_ "

" _The c-captain has a megaphone in his station—_ "

" _Find the megaphone_ and _the captain. Tell him to send a distress signal to his superiors. And direct_ everyone _on board to come to the upper deck. Make sure to tell them that the lifeboats are here._ "

She sent him on his way with a rough shove and turned her attention to Barton, who was watching her with hard eyes.

"They won't be able to get off the ship," he said, having to raise his voice in order to be heard above the alarms. "Not without the monster destroying their lifeboats."

"We have to distract it." Lauren wildly searched for anything that could prove as a distraction.

 _There._ At the highest point of the platform in the middle of the deck, there was a line of spotlights.

She pointed at them and said, "Go there and wait for my signal to turn them on. Have your bow ready."

He frowned at her. "What are you gonna do?"

"Find a way to make this boat go faster. As soon as the passengers drop the lifeboats, we have to get the monster as far away from them as possible."

Clint opened his mouth to say more, but the yacht shook once again. In the distance, Lauren saw something dark peeking out from the sea. It might have been the monster's tail, but she deeply hoped that it wasn't; if it was, then it was far larger than anything she had ever fought before.

"Change of plans," she muttered. "Turn on the spotlights as soon as you can. Point them at the water there." She pointed to the starboard side of the ship. "I will make sure to have the passengers escape at the left-hand side."

"Good luck," said Barton, before he rushed off to get to the spotlights.

Lauren sprinted towards the large group of passengers and squeezed through them. People were getting handed lifeboats. There was a square hole in the floor, where the lifeboats were coming from.

She peeked into it and found the waiter from before, inflating one of the rafts. He noticed her immediately, and she wasted no time in giving a new set of instructions.

" _My friend is going to turn on the spotlights. That is your signal. As soon as they are on, throw the rafts overboard at the_ left-hand side _. You remember that?_ "

He bobbed his head. " _Wait for the spotlights. Left-hand side._ "

" _And then you start rowing. Get as far away from here as possible. The captain's sure to have called someone by now. They will find you._ "

She didn't wait for his reply this time. As soon as she found a flight of stairs, she hurried up the steps and made her way to the front of the ship, where she presumed the captain's control room was. Passengers ran past her, and she sincerely hoped that she could save all of them.

Past the blaring alarms, she heard what sounded like a generator starting up. She guessed it was Barton turning on the spotlights. Realizing this, she doubled her speed and burst through a door with the sign "navigation deck". She wasn't expecting the second waiter and the captain to be inside, yet there they were, standing by the control panel.

The captain had what looked to be a phone pressed against his ear, and he was furiously yelling into it. Neither he nor the waiter had noticed her presence. She noticed a megaphone sitting untouched at the side of the panel and ran up to it.

Bringing it up to her lips, she said, " _All passengers proceed to the upper deck. Again, all passengers proceed to the upper deck. Lifeboats will be given out and more instructions will follow._ "

She'd barely finished speaking when the captain came up to her and pulled her away, though in a surprisingly gentle manner.

" _Who are you?_ " he demanded.

" _I am here to help,_ " she replied. " _I need to know how to make this ship go faster._ "

" _Why?_ "

" _We are being attacked—_ "

Before she could finish, another tremor rocked the boat, followed by an earsplitting roar. It seemed the spotlights had indeed caught the monster's attention. And while Lauren had expected the quake, the captain and the waiter were thrown off balance.

She quickly helped them up and said, " _If everyone is to come out of this safely, I_ need _to know how to control the ship. Please. Just trust me._ "

After hearing the roar, the captain didn't need any more convincing. He pointed to a lever on the panel. " _Push this forward to speed up, and pull it back to slow down._ "

" _That's all I need to know. Now go._ "

When they were gone, she counted in her head, one hundred and eighty seconds. That should be enough time for the captain and everyone else to get off the ship. And if it wasn't… well, they would just have to jump off.

The time came when that one hundred and eighty seconds were up. Lauren took a deep breath and gripped the lever with a sweaty hand. "Here goes nothing."

She pushed it forward until her knuckles hit the surface of the panel. Immediately, the ship shot forward and she was nearly thrown onto her back, but she held fast.

When she was certain that she could hold her ground by herself, she reached for the megaphone once more.

"Barton?" she said. "I do hope you're still there. If there is still anyone on board, tell him or her to jump off. Things become more difficult from here on out."

She was determined to keep travelling at such a high speed for at least a minute longer. But then the monster bellowed again.

The ship trembled with what Lauren was certain was the monster's most powerful hit yet. She noticed the sea in front of her become slanted, and then she slid to the left. Her heart dropped.

The monster had forced the ship to tilt. She thought that it would be enough to completely bend the yacht into the water, but everything evened out after a few seconds.

Thinking quickly, Lauren waited for a few seconds more, letting the ship continue at maximum speed, before completely halting its movement. They were far enough away from the passengers' lifeboats. They _had_ to be.

Lauren removed her bow and quiver of arrows from the case Barton had lent to her. Bow in hand, with her quiver over her shoulder, she felt much more at ease, stronger, and more confident. She left the case where it was.

Rushing out of the navigation deck and back onto the upper deck, she struggled to think of a way on how they were going to defeat a sea monster. No matter how easy it was to hit, it would be nigh impossible to kill while remaining on the ship.

They needed a pegasus. Or Percy Jackson. As of the moment, both were too far away to be of help.

Barton was still on the platform operating the spotlights when she tumbled onto the deck. The floor was soaked in icy seawater, and Lauren fought to keep her footing.

"Barton!" she yelled. He turned his attention to her but continued moving the spotlight around. "Where is it?"

"There!" He pointed to the starboard side, and Lauren saw something spiky and webbed curving outwards from the sea. It must have been a meter tall, _at least_.

With a feeling of dread, she realized that this visible portion of the monster was its back, and _only_ its back. The entirety of it must be huge, as large as the ship—possibly larger.

Lauren figured that, in order to effectively battle the monster, they had to have the height advantage. She ran to meet with Barton at the highest point of the ship, and they looked down at the sea from there. Lauren waited for the monster to show its back again, a plan already forming in her mind.

Once its back curved upwards again, Lauren quickly nocked an arrow, took aim, and loosed it. It lodged itself into the junction between the monster's webbed spines and its back. The arrow easily sunk into flesh.

 _So it has no armor protecting it,_ Lauren concluded as the monster let loose a wail. Barton looked at her and she shrugged. "I had to catch its attention somehow. I wouldn't be surprised if Khione sent it, meaning that it won't stop, not before it kills us. We have to get it out of the water and kill it."

Clint nodded. "Basically, just get it angry and take advantage, then."

"Precisely."

"And, uh, how exactly do you kill it?"

"I'm working on that."

Lauren noticed that he already had his bow and quivers out, and then a tidal wave of ice water suddenly erupted from the sea, soaking absolutely everything on the deck. The cause of the upsurge could be found before their very eyes, and Lauren had to crane her neck just to see its head.

It was gargantuan—as large as the yacht. Serpent-like in shape, it had multiple fins stiffly sticking out of its sides. Its head resembled a shark's, with gills at the sides and a single, large fin at the top. The scales running all across its body were a dark, sickly green color, becoming lighter at its underside. The spines on its back were the color of blood, as was its eyes.

It opened its maw to release a terrible roar, and Lauren was certain that it could swallow the entire ship whole.

"How do we go about this?" asked Barton, shifting on his feet.

Lauren glanced at him. "What kinds of arrows do you have?"

"Just the regular ones and the explosive tips."

"Aim for—"

"The soft spots. You do know that this is suicide, right?"

"Yes." She sighed, nocking an arrow. "We will figure something out."

"Alright… Let's go for it."

Without warning, Barton loosed three consecutive arrows, lodging them into one of the monster's gills. Lauren hadn't expected them to explode on contact. The monster reared its ugly head and wailed.

"Don't let it get back into the water!" said Barton, all while firing arrows like nobody's business.

Curious and determined at the same time, Lauren pulled a handful of arrows out of Barton's quiver and jumped off of the platform, tumbling back onto the upper deck. From there, she let loose a stream of arrows onto the monster's currently exposed belly.

One exploded, two were just the regular ones, but the last one surprised her.

When it became lodged into the monster's flesh, the monster froze, save for a few, very miniature movements. It became rigid, as if…

 _As if it were having a seizure,_ Lauren realized. She looked to Barton and found that he was already taking advantage of the situation.

"Electro-arrows," he shouted. "I forgot I had them."

Lauren knew that electricity plus the water currently coating the monster worked well in their favor… in their given position, at least. "Fire more!" she told Clint. "Keep it still! I have an idea."

Barton released half a dozen of the electro-arrows, aiming for different parts of the monster every time.

Once Lauren was certain that the monster wouldn't move for a considerate amount of time, she yelled at Barton, "Give me the sword."

He placed his hand on the hilt but hesitated, frowning at her. "What are you planning?"

"Just give it to me!" Lauren noticed that the monster was starting to regain control of its head, and she panicked. "Throw it NOW!"

After another second of reluctance, he tossed it over to her. She immediately slung her bow over her shoulder and unsheathed the sword. Steeling herself, she backed up several steps and then broke into a run. As she neared the railings of the boat, she brought her foot up onto the metal and pushed upwards.

The sound of Barton yelling registered in her ears. The rapid beating of her heart soon drowned it out. The distance she had jumped surprised her, for the monster had been several ways away from the yacht, but she didn't question it.

The monster had only begun to recover from the onslaught of electricity when Lauren brought the sword down over her head. The shining blade disappeared within the skin of the monster—Lauren buried it to the hilt.

Gripping the handle with both hands, she pulled the sword down, cutting down its throat.

Blood poured down, soaking her. It was uncharacteristically warm. Lauren couldn't risk cutting down all the way, only until she reached the top of its belly. There, she brought her feet up and kicked away from the monster, pulling the sword out of its flesh.

The yacht was farther away than she'd previously assumed. As she flailed around in the air, she wished she had Jason Grace's powers to fly. Barton stood by the railings with both his arms stretched out. Lauren frantically reached for him, but he was still too far… Then, he did something that frightened even her.

He slipped between the railings, hooking both his legs onto the metal bars and using that as leverage. And then he stretched out his arms again, and Lauren thought that maybe he could reach her.

Gravity resumed its efforts with pulling her down, but she strained against it.

And then impossibly, almost _miraculously_ —Lauren's fingers grazed his.

But it wasn't enough.

Her hand slipped. He tried to grab her again, this time with his other arm, but she was already falling away. He shouted a stream of words—they might have been curses, but Lauren couldn't tell past the dull ringing in her ears. The last thing she noticed was the blood smeared on his hand before she hit the water.

It was freezing. That was all she could register at the moment. Reflexively, she gasped at the sudden temperature, and water entered her mouth and nostrils, taking away any oxygen she had stored in her lungs beforehand. Her eyes burned.

A haze of red surrounded her, like wisps of smoke. She discerned that the water must have been washing away the blood from her body. Feebly, she began kicking towards the surface, to no avail. Numbness invaded her senses, turning her limbs into lead. She couldn't think straight.

Suddenly, something massive crashed into the water. _The monster._ So she had killed it after all. Good.

Her vision started to dim, and her chest felt like it was on fire. She had long stopped trying to swim to the surface.

Behind the mist of the monster's blood, she saw another figure crash into the water. Human. It was swimming towards her, but that was impossible. No one could swim through ice.

That was the last thing she saw before darkness engulfed her.


	24. Chapter 23 - Rekindle

It was warm. Irrevocably, unfathomably, _impossibly_ warm. And it was dark, but Lauren had a feeling that there was something else past the darkness. Something she was familiar with.

Out of nowhere, something cold enveloped a part of her body. She couldn't tell which part. But the coldness stayed, and she came to realize that it was gripping her wrist. Then it was tugging her, and there was pain. Her skin burned; she wanted it to stop moving her. After a few moments, it did.

The warmth stayed, and then she was moving—by herself, it seemed. Something was towing her by her stomach, like there was a hook at the very center of her sternum with a rope tied around it. It wasn't as painful as before, but it certainly wasn't pleasant.

And as she moved, the throbbing pain she felt in her throat, chest, and skull vanished. A sense of calm entered her being.

When she stopped, white light suddenly invaded her senses. She was blinded for a moment, her vision going fuzzy before a scene materialized in front of her.

She was in a chamber made entirely of stone. Grey stone; the floor was white, with small cracks and fissures branching in every direction. There were green plants protruding from the cracks, swaying to a breeze she couldn't feel.

Were they… seaweed?

But that would mean that she was underwater. If so, why was it so warm?

There was a disturbance in the water. She looked around, suspecting an attack to come, but there was nothing. She only heard voices. Men's voices.

"I want to see her," one voice said, sounding quite upset.

"No," replied the other. "You need to rest as well, no matter how _fine_ you feel. I may have given you a means to escape the treacherous cold of the waters, and a way to breathe, but your body needs to recover—"

"She's _dying_."

"And you have to wait. There is nothing else you can do."

Behind the pillars that supported the chamber, two figures came into view. One was human with tattered clothes—Agent Barton. He had a yellow aura surrounding his body, and Lauren wondered what it was. The being walking beside him… or, rather, _swimming_ beside him, had brown curls and was shirtless.

He had a fish's lower half.

"My healers will do everything in their power to help her," said the merman. "But they do not need a distraction such as yourself."

"Then I'll be quiet. Just let me be there—"

"That's enough!" the merman snapped. "Marlin, Darwin—" He gestured to something behind him, "—take him to one of the prison cells. Make sure he does not leave without my order."

Two large mermen appeared, one with a red tail and one with a blue one. They grabbed Barton by the arms, and the agent stood no chance against their combined strength. Still, he continued to struggle.

As they passed by the merman who had given the order, that same merman pulled one of the guards aside and muttered, "Go to one of the healers afterwards and ask her what to give him. Do whatever she tells you."

"Yes, my lord."

 _Lord?_ Lauren thought.

When Barton and the guards were gone, she decided against following them and trailed behind the leader instead.

Not he, or Barton, or either of the guards had noticed her just standing by, and she had a good guess as to how that was. Also, she had a feeling she knew who Barton and the lord had been pertaining to as "she" and "her".

She followed the lord through winding underwater passages and eventually ended up in a room filled with several mermaids. They were huddled around something. Though Lauren had a sneaking suspicion as to what it was, she strained to get a better view and found a girl lying on a stone table.

Fiery orange hair, pale complexion, youthful features, dressed in sopping wet jeans and a parka—Lauren knew that she was staring down at her own body.

It was impossible to describe how odd it felt, knowing that she was dying…

Or was she already dead?

The Hunters had often told stories around the campfire about having out-of-body experiences such as the one she was having now, and they happened when the person was in a deep sleep, nearly dead, or already dead. Lauren knew for a fact that she wasn't sleeping, considering the urgency that had been in Barton's voice. She hadn't made it back to the ship when she cut open the sea monster.

If it wasn't the hypothermia that had gotten to her, it was the lack of oxygen.

Everything became much, _much_ brighter, then. Through squinted eyes, she noticed that the other, more vacant half of the room was now engulfed in a white light—very similar to the one she had been blinded by only minutes before.

The tugging in her stomach returned, more insistent. She took a single step towards the light and coolness erupted all throughout her body. It was liberating in ways she couldn't explain. But it also felt… wrong.

Lauren glanced back at the mermaids tending to her body.

"She's not breathing," one of them said.

"We need to get the water out of her lungs."

Frowning, she began walking back towards her body, thinking that she would regain consciousness if her soul returned. She stopped when the light behind her became overshadowed by something wide. Lauren looked at the shadow and found that it was, in fact, some _one_.

His presence felt icy, opposing the warmth she could still feel. But she was right behind the healers now, and if she reached out, she could touch her body.

She spared a glance over her shoulder and saw a man with the darkest skin she had ever seen. His eyes were gold, but they were also taciturn. Lauren caught a glimpse of the dark wings on his back, and she knew who she was looking at.

"Not today, Thanatos." She growled before wrapping her hand around her unconscious body's wrist.

" _No, not today."_

* * *

Everything exploded in a burst of light. Lauren experienced the brief sensation of falling; then just as quickly, everything was dark again.

Her ears were ringing. Past that, she could hear voices.

 _Thank Zeus,_ she thought, just as she felt pressure being applied to her chest. There was a flash of pain, and something fluid was moving within her—up her throat and out of her mouth.

Involuntarily, her body shot up and she began coughing.

Saltwater spewed out of her mouth—along with some blood, she noticed.

As the coughing subsided, she gazed at the merpeople surrounding her with bleary eyes. Most of them were smiling at each other in relief, but the one male in the room stared down at her with serious eyes.

Lauren regarded him shakily. Past the stinging in her throat, she managed to ask, "Who are you?"

"Down to business already?" He raised an eyebrow, but she could see the amusement on his face. "I am Proteus. I am lord here."

"And where exactly is 'here'?"

"When you killed that sea monster, it leveled the ship you had evacuated. Fortunately for you, that happened just by my kingdom's walls."

As he spoke, the mermaids dispersed. One returned with a vial of golden nectar. Lauren gratefully took it from her, pulled the cork out, and downed the contents in one gulp. The effects of it were instant. Her body warmed up, but not to the point of danger. Strength returned to her limbs and the ache in her throat subsided.

"We are in one of Poseidon's tactical lands," Proteus continued. "In Greece, of course. Ever since that predicament with the Earth Mother, he wanted to make sure that at least one part of Greece was protected. I stay here as the leader—commander, if you will. Although, _Lord Proteus_ has a better ring to it, wouldn't you agree?"

Lauren was barely listening, but she nodded anyway. She sat up, and only then did she notice the vague yellow glow encasing her body.

The confusion must have been clear on her face, for Proteus quickly explained, "Since you aren't a child of Poseidon, I had to place a little enchantment on you and your friend to let you breathe… And it isn't particularly warm this time of year either."

With a jolt, she remembered. _Barton._

She must have been getting rusty with hiding her emotions, or she was just more dazed than she thought, for Proteus smiled widely and answered her unspoken question. "I'll take you to him. Then, maybe we can talk about your… situation."

One of the mermaids helped Lauren off of the table. Lauren felt shaky at first, her legs nearly giving way. Though she felt as strong as she had while battling the sea monster, everything felt odd, out of place. Her body felt heavy, disproportionate, and gawky.

Determined not to show any sign of weakness, she gestured for Proteus to lead the way.

* * *

The look of pure relief on Barton's face was a sight she wouldn't easily forget. He even came so close as to hug her, but it only lasted for a second, and she was thankful for that.

"I thought you weren't going to make it," he said.

"I was dead… or, at least, _very_ close to it," she murmured in reply, still wary of Proteus' presence just behind her. "I saw Thanatos—he is the Greek equivalent of your Grim Reaper. He only ever appears when he is about to reap a soul and take it to the Underworld."

For some reason, Barton smiled. "So you took the advice of Dylan Thomas, then?"

It took a while for Lauren to understand. When she did, she couldn't help the smirk that eased onto her lips. "Do not go gentle into that good night," she recited.

"Exactly." He looked over her shoulder and fixed his gaze on Proteus, looking as untrusting as Lauren felt. "Being lord here and all that… You don't happen to be a son of Poseidon, do you?"

"I am, actually," said Proteus.

Lauren was, at first, confused by Barton's question, though eventually she caught up. "Do you know who his eldest child is?" she interjected. "Arguably _not_ a demigod?"

The merman grinned. "I am."

"You are what?"

"I am his oldest immortal child, born just two years before Triton."

At this, Lauren and Clint looked at each other in sheer disbelief. The improbable had happened: they had found the perpetual equivalent of Percy. All that was left was Hades' and Zeus' eldest, though Lauren remembered something Leo Valdez had stated during their camp counselor meeting. That Hephaestus was Zeus' oldest immortal child, his equivalent being Jason.

That was going to be a problem, since Olympus was closed off. They had no way of informing Hephaestus about his involvement in the prophecy.

But Proteus was here.

Quickly, Lauren explained to him everything that had happened in the past week. His reactions ranged from amusement, surprise, confusion—but most of all, seriousness; Lauren couldn't be more relieved that he was nothing like Dionysus.

When she was finished, Proteus shook his head, a look of incredulity on his face. "In all my years in this universe, I have never heard of _three_ civilizations coming together like this, be it in war or otherwise. It's… It's a lot to take in."

Lauren nodded. "I understand. All I need to know is if you are willing to travel to Asgard or not."

"Of course I'm willing. It's not like I'm holding anything against them." He smirked pointedly at Lauren, who narrowed her eyes at him. "But if there's going to be a war, someone has to stay here and command the battalions. Now, originally, Poseidon wanted _me_ to be that someone, but looking at the situation… well, he'll just have to make an exception. I'll make the necessary adjustments."

It occurred to her that fighting monsters and Frost Giants required actual legs. She was hesitant to voice out her question, so she merely glanced down at his lower half.

He understood her message and guffawed. "Oh, this thing won't be a problem." He flicked his tail. "I can change it at will."

"I see."

Sighing, he changed the subject. "I understand that you need to get to Crete as soon as possible."

Pursing her lips, she asked, "Hippocampi?"

"I would lend you a pegasus, but we don't have those here. So yes, Hippocampi."

She nodded. "Before we leave, I have to make an Iris message."

"There's a place here where the sunlight hits the water perfectly. And you're lucky. The sun just came up." He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "Marlin will take you to the site."

Looking past him, Lauren noticed the burly, red-tailed merman waiting by the doorway. It was one of the guards who had taken Barton to the jail cell.

Proteus turned around and began walking away, but she called him back, asking, "Where are you going?"

"I'm picking out the Hippocampi myself," he casually replied. "You'll need the fastest ones."

She didn't get the chance to react; he was already out of the room. Scowling slightly, Lauren switched her gaze to Marlin and muttered, "Lead the way."

He turned around fluidly and waded through the doorway. She and Clint followed close behind him, stepping cautiously, as there were many clams and seashells on the floor.

"What the hell are _Hippocampi_?" Barton said as they were walking. "Is there some brain joke I'm not understanding?"

"Hippocampi are seahorses, in the _very_ literal sense of the word." A look of understanding crossed the agent's features. "You will see them later. But before that, we have to relay everything that's happened to those at Camp. They will want to know about Proteus… and the sea monster."

* * *

Lauren had only ever _heard_ of the existence of Hippocampi from Percy. She hadn't seen one until now, and she could understand the son of Poseidon's infatuation with them.

Their rainbow scales, beneath the saddles, glistened under the morning sun. From the waist up, their light coats looked so smooth that she was almost tempted to touch it. But Proteus was still holding their reins, and one of them—the larger one—was bucking from time to time.

"This one's still a bit wild," said Proteus, tugging the Hippocampus back down. "Which one of you will take it?"

Not saying anything, Lauren stepped forward and held her hand out. Proteus made a move to place the reins into her palm, but she gave him a pointed look. He moved back, and she stepped forward. The wild Hippocampus reared its head away, but after a few moments, settled down and smelled her hand.

Smiling, Lauren stroked it several times before allowing Proteus to place the reins in her hand. "Does she have a name?" she asked.

"Sure," said Proteus. " _He_ is called Cyrus."

"And what about this one?" Barton spoke up, approaching the other Hippocampus. He held his hand out to it as well, like what Lauren had done, but the Hippocampus nickered and shook its head vigorously. The agent backed up.

" _This_ is Alexis." Proteus stroked the Hippocampus' mane. "Sorry about that. She doesn't react very well to humans. It's probably just because she's never seen one or smelled one before. Just let her get used to you and it'll be fine."

"Alright…" Cautiously, Barton took the reins from him but remained a respectable distance away from the Hippocampus.

Lauren frowned, wondering how they were going to get the creature to cooperate. She approached Alexis and offered her hand. Once the Hippocampus bowed its head and nickered softly, Lauren gestured for Barton to come forward. She grabbed his hand and placed it on Alexis' neck.

Needless to say, Alexis was a bit surprised, but she eventually settled down and allowed Barton to pet her more freely. Lauren looked apologetically at Barton, who was a bit startled, himself.

"We cannot tarry," she said. "There are only three more days left. We have to find the bane and bring it back to Camp Half-Blood—by tomorrow evening, at the latest—if we hope to stand a chance against Orion."

Carefully, she mounted Cyrus.

There was a brief look of astonishment on Proteus' face, and Lauren guessed that it had never been easy to ride this particular Hippocampus before. She stuffed down the pride that currently threatened to spill over, and nodded at Barton.

"Fury doesn't pay me enough for this," he muttered.

Huffing, he threw his leg over Alexis and settled onto her back. She reared her head back and nearly gave him a concussion in doing so. But afterwards, she was vigorously bobbing her head, eyes closed. Lauren soon realized that she was laughing—or, as close a Hippocampus could ever get to laughing.

Proteus chuckled. "She's been known to have a sense of humor."

"I noticed," Barton grumbled.

"Oh! Before I forget…"

With a knowing smile, Proteus snapped his fingers and suddenly there were bags strapped onto the saddles, both Barton's and Lauren's. They weren't their original packs from the beginning of the Quest—Lauren caught the look of disappointment on Clint's face—but they looked more fitting for the journey.

They looked to be stuffed with supplies, so Lauren was surprised when she lifted hers and found that it was quite light. The familiar golden aura surrounded the bags. Hearing a quiet grunt from Barton, Lauren turned her head. The bronze sword she had used to kill the sea monster was strapped to his saddle.

"We found that before it sunk to the bottom," Proteus explained. "Also, we found this…" Lauren raised her head just in time to watch him pull his hands from behind him, revealing her bow and a new quiver (refilled with new arrows). "Artemis' magic is protecting the bow from the water, but we had to get a new quiver."

As Lauren took the objects from him, she noticed that there was an engraving on the quiver. It didn't have the yellow aura, so she guessed that it was one of the merfolk's quivers—meaning that it was custom made.

A thought occurred to her, and she looked to Barton. His eyes, full with dissatisfaction and longing, were fixed on the quiver.

"Of all the things S.H.I.E.L.D. could have made," he said to himself.

It came to Lauren's attention that his bow was still with him, undamaged, and she assumed that it was waterproof. But the arrows hadn't been.

"Give me your bow," said Proteus. Barton did as he said and he held the bow aloft in his hands, staring down at it with his eyebrows furrowed. "I could have my fletchers make arrows for this bow, but you would have to stay until tomorrow."

Barton glanced at Lauren and shook his head. "We don't have the time," he said, taking his bow back. "Do you think you could lend us another set? With a bow?"

Proteus snapped his fingers again. Lauren blinked, and a bow and quiver had appeared in his hands. He handed them to Barton, who accepted them gratefully, but had no idea where to stow his own bow away.

Proteus smiled. "If you want, I can keep it for you. Only for the time being, of course. When everything is over, just pray to me and I'll have it sent to you."

Lauren didn't miss the wariness in Barton's gaze. Still, he handed the bow to Proteus and muttered something under his breath, something she didn't catch.

"You have my thanks, Lord Proteus," she said. "Truly."

"That's something coming from a Hunter of Artemis." He grinned. "Safe travels, Lauren Brooks and Clint Barton. And know that I will come to your aid, when the time comes."

With that done, Lauren tightened her grip on the reins and spurred Cyrus onwards. He bucked once again, causing Lauren to lean forward, before he suddenly began striding through the water. He was going so fast that in a matter of seconds, the underwater domain was already yards away.

Lauren glanced over her shoulder and found Alexis trailing close behind, with an unprepared Agent Barton sitting on her back.

Yet despite the distance, the laughter of the son of Poseidon still reached their ears.


	25. Chapter 24 - Crete - Part 1

The Hippocampi were fast, as they should have been. And as they crossed the Sea of Crete, Lauren remained hyperaware of the surrounding water.

She felt deeply responsible for what had happened with the yacht, primarily because so many people had almost died because of her carelessness. She should have been more mindful; she already knew that Khione was protecting the area around the bane.

The closer they got to Crete, the more dangerous it was going to be.

Her eyes kept darting around. Her hands itched to let go of the reins and wrap around the figure of a bow, but she knew that doing so would give Cyrus the false perception of being free to move however he wanted, which would more than likely result in her falling into the water, and she didn't want that.

Alexis seemed to be gliding through the water beside Cyrus, swimming in a more controlled manner. Barton had calmed down and found peace with the fact that he was riding a literal sea horse. But since they left Proteus' sea palace, he hadn't said a word. Perhaps because the sound of splashing water was too loud for him to be heard—Lauren couldn't be sure.

Minutes before, the island of Crete had only been a speck in the horizon. Now, it was a large stretch of land between the sea and the sky. Catching the light of the morning sun, the island looked quite beautiful.

Many tourists were sure to be there, which was why Lauren was going to make sure that the Hippocampi were going to drop off them off at the least populated area. And as soon as they set foot on the island, she and Barton were going to make a beeline for the jungle.

There was no more time for sightseeing. They had to find the Anegnoro tree, and they had to find it soon.

They reached the shores of Crete in a matter of minutes. Lauren was surprised that neither of the Hippocampi seemed even a bit winded. They were neighing and bucking quite fervently—particularly Cyrus.

Lauren and Barton quickly dismounted, unclasping their bags from the saddles and shouldering them.

"If you can understand me," Lauren said to the Hippocampi, "Give Lord Proteus my thanks. And swim carefully."

Cyrus had already turned around and disappeared beneath the water's surface before she had even finished speaking. But Alexis stayed and acknowledged her statement with a hasty bobbing of her head; then she trailed after Cyrus, sea foam appearing in the wake of her multicolored tail.

As Lauren watched their glittering bodies swim into the deep, she could have sworn that she saw something peek out from the surface of the water several miles off from the island. She frowned. "Did you see that?"

"Damn right I did," Barton replied. "How many sea monsters are there?"

"Not many around the world, but here in Greece, there could be no shortage of them." She glanced at him from the corner of her eye and found that he was glaring at the sea. "Come. It will have no chance to attack us in the forest."

"Why do I have a feeling that things will only get worse 'in the forest'?"

"Because they will."

"Great."

Smiling humorlessly, Lauren led the way up the beach. The sand was fine and pliant beneath her feet. Too fine, and too pliant. It was difficult to walk up the dunes to be able to reach the tree line, but their determination won in the end.

Lauren stared into the jungle, apprehension gnawing at her. There were sure to be monsters. Many of them.

"Once we walk in, we have to keep moving," she said.

"We don't even know where this Anegnoro is," he pointed out. "How are we supposed to find it?"

She just looked at him and offered no answer; she didn't have one. She had no idea what they were walking into. Ever since she had accepted to partake in the Quest, she'd had no idea. Her mind was still dazed from the fact that she had nearly _died_ —she had literally _met_ Death.

And the memory of it wasn't very comforting.

As she unslung her bow from her shoulder and gripped it tight in her hand, she gazed into the woods, finding solace in the fact that she had practically been living in the wild for the better part of 24 years. She knew how to move in it, how to track, how to protect herself from predators.

She waited for Barton to equip his bow as well before stepping past the tree line and venturing into the jungle.

The trees above glistened with dew, and their branches were so wide that accompanied by the clumps of snow, only little sunlight could pass through and illuminate the path. Luckily, Lauren felt at ease with such conditions, and Barton didn't seem very uncomfortable either. They were going to be fine.

They were treading through the thick undergrowth when Lauren heard a sound very similar to the growling of a wild animal.

She started but made sure not to bring her bow up. Any sudden movements would notify the animal that she was hostile, and she certainly didn't wish to be. She scanned the immediately surroundings with trained eyes, yet found nothing.

"Sorry, that was me," Barton suddenly said, making her frown in confusion. She turned and noticed that he was clutching his stomach with his free hand.

Realization dawned on her and she asked, "When was the last time you ate?"

"Had to have been last night." He thought for a moment, and then nodded. "Yeah, that bag of chips we shared in the cargo hold."

"You must be starving."

Lauren had forgotten all about that: she could last for days without eating anything (though perhaps not without drinking anything), but mortals were not the same as she was. Barton said that he could keep going without food, but the grumbling of his stomach effectively cut off anything else he was about to say.

With pursed lips, Lauren looked up at the sky and did her best to judge whether smoke could be very visible at this time of day. After a few seconds, she decided that they could risk it. Lauren could tell that Barton wasn't going to be able to hold out until evening. At least not without losing his strength. And she needed him to be at his full strength, in case any monster decided to attack.

Or if _the_ monster decided to attack.

"We cannot risk lighting a fire in the evening," said Lauren. "So we will hunt for breakfast and lunch, but no more until morning comes again."

"That's good enough for me." Barton looked at her questioningly. "Should I hunt or would you like to do the honors?"

She glared, offended. "Why would I hunt for you? You are the one who was hungry in the first place."

Immediately, he brought his hands up as a sign of goodwill. He seemed to be doing that a lot recently. "I didn't mean it like that. I just thought you wouldn't trust me to hunt, especially when there's so many monsters around, like you said."

She thought about it for a moment, and his reasoning was completely right. If a monster came out of nowhere, she would have more chances at killing it with her bow than him with the sword. Also, she was positive that she could hunt faster than him.

"What would you like to eat?" she asked, a small smile on her face.

"I guess there aren't going to be any turkeys, huh?" he asked, to which Lauren shook her head. "Too late for Thanksgiving anyway." He shrugged. "Whatever you can find, I guess."

If that was the case… "I'll only take a few minutes."

* * *

She returned to their site with her fingers wrapped around the tails of the game she had caught; she held her bow in her other hand. Barton was sitting on the ground with his legs stretched in front of him. A small fire had been lit in the middle of the clearing, with a spit already set over it.

Lauren dumped the fowl in front of Clint. "Do you know how to skin them?"

"Sure."

"Well, get to it. That sword won't make it very easy for you."

He held up a finger, as if he was saying, _Wait a moment._ Lauren watched as he dug around in his pack for a few moments before he pulled out a sheathed Celestial bronze dagger.

Surprised, she could find no words and could only look on as he unsheathed the blade, picked up one of the fowls, and began skinning it. He smirked at the astonished look on her face. "No problem."

Swallowing back the lump in her throat, she turned and moved a few ways away from the site. As she stooped down to pick up sticks for the fowl, a thought occurred to her.

Very subtly, she pulled her bag off her shoulders and dug around until her hand touched something metal.

 _Proteus helped us more than I thought._

She closed her eyes, sighing. He must have seen her as such a shallow person. She could only hope that he had noticed the earnestness in her voice when she had thanked him, for she'd truly been grateful, and she still was now.

Barton had finished skinning the game by the time she returned with an adequate amount of sticks. She set them down and hastily began peeling off the bark with her newly acquired dagger. It was sharper than it looked.

When she was finished peeling and sharpening the edges of the sticks, she impaled each of the fowls with the thin pieces of wood, setting them over the fire one by one. Barton watched with patient eyes, and they quietly waited for their meat to finish cooking.

She tended to the fire with a long stick, while he turned the fowl from time to time to make sure that they were cooked evenly.

In the stillness of the forest, the unrelenting grumbling of his stomach was difficult to ignore. He hardly seemed embarrassed by it though. He just looked absolutely famished. And Lauren couldn't lie: the smell wafting off of the meat, however unseasoned it might have been, was making her hungry as well.

Once the game finally looked cooked enough, Barton immediately reached for one of the sticks of meat, and with careful, dignified movements, he brought the meat to his mouth and tore off a chunk. The bird was surprisingly fatty, but not disgustingly so. Juices from the fat dribbled down Barton's chin and he quickly wiped it with the back of his hand.

An image of Thalia popped up in Lauren's head, and she froze. Thalia used to do that all the time, no matter how clean her face already was. Lauren had deducted that it was a habit of some sort, perhaps something she had picked up in her childhood of being on the run. The act had been strangely endearing.

But watching someone doing it who _wasn't her_ … It didn't feel right.

In an effort to banish the memory from her mind, Lauren gripped one of the sticks on its pointy end (effectively burning herself slightly) and threw the whole thing into the fire. Barton stiffened a bit and looked at her.

"For the gods," she explained. "No matter how much they don't seem to care, they still need to eat."

She then picked up another stick for herself and chewed on the meat. It was good. She knew something else that would make the meal even better, and that was nectar. A few tiny sips wouldn't hurt, she supposed.

As soon as the food had been finished, she took out the bottle of nectar that Proteus had so generously included in her bag, brought the rim to her lips and let the liquid flow down her throat. It warmed her immediately.

Meanwhile, Barton was staring at her. "Does that really taste like anything you want it to taste like?"

Lauren nodded.

"Damn. What I would give for a good meal right now. Some expensive wine from Tony, too."

"When this is all over, you may return to the life you once had."

"You don't think it'll really be that simple, do you?"

"No." He looked at her, and she evenly met his gaze. "It never is." She instantly became aware of the silence that threatened to settle over them and stood up. She put out the fire and disassembled the spit, saying, "We should get moving."

Clint shouldered his bag and buckled the sword onto his hip. "You have no idea where we're going, do you?"

"I don't, but I do know that the bane is here. In Athens, I felt some kind of magical force beneath the ground. The pull of magic and the power of the gods. Here it is no different. If anything, the pull feels stronger here."

As soon as she said this, the tugging in the center of her belly—something she had constantly been feeling ever since they stepped foot on Athens—became particularly insistent. But it only lasted for a second before it reverted back into a dull, throbbing annoyance.

"This way," said Lauren, walking towards where the force was pulling her.

* * *

For three hours, they walked west. Nothing happened. But eventually they both tired out and opted to rest for a bit.

Ten minutes later, they continued walking again. Another two hours passed and again, nothing happened. They came across nothing of interest, just wildlife and several kinds of flora.

As the day grew older, the chill of the winter air became harder and harder to ignore, not to mention the fatigue in their bones. Lauren tried to keep her mind on something else, but her body had other ideas. Her teeth chattered a bit, and her hands, bare to the cold, trembled. She was fairly certain that Barton was experiencing the same.

With every step that she took, the familiar sense of trepidation grew within her. The tugging she felt in her belly felt much too similar to how it felt like in one of her dreams: standing in a cold, desolate place, watching herself step into a polluted river, and hearing that scream… The memory of the dream reminded her that it had been _her_ screaming.

She felt like she was leading Barton to their deaths.

Her train of thought stopped there when she heard the snapping of a twig in the distance.

She and Barton halted in their tracks. Immediately, Lauren began scanning their surroundings. Night was yet to fall completely, but the sunken sun offered them little light, especially considering the thick shrubs of the forest. Lauren made sure not to make any sudden movements—in case the animal would only become hostile once it was threatened.

But the looming, oddly placed shadow several meters away from them was far too large to be just _any_ animal.

Lauren reached back and pulled an arrow from her quiver, letting it fly a millisecond later. There was a sharp _clang_ , and Lauren realized it to be the sound of her arrow scraping against something hard and smooth.

The monster's protective armor.

The same one she had encountered in her dreams.

"Run!" she yelled, though Barton had loosed an arrow as well, meeting the same result. Quickly, she grabbed his arm, turned them both around, and sprinted into the undergrowth.

Tiny branches scratched Lauren's face, but the cold air rushing against her skin soon numbed any pain. Behind them, she could hear the quick, thundering steps of the scorpion.

She glanced over her shoulder and was dismayed to find that nothing was there. Just empty air—or what _seemed_ to be empty air. Snow was being kicked around in all directions, the result of several legs scampering across the ground.

Lauren risked another moment, staring harder, and found that the monster was indeed there. Barely visible, but there. Its tail was bent over its head like a curved dagger; the tip glinted whenever sunlight would hit it.

A sense of déjà vu settled over Lauren, combined with deep fear. How were they going to kill something they couldn't see?

The lines from one of the prophecies rang in her head: _But in order to see the bane of Gaea's son, they must first find trust where there is none._

Had Apollo been drunk when he created that prophecy? It wasn't the bane that couldn't be seen, it was the monster.

Barton twisted while running and shot an arrow. There wasn't even the telltale clang of the arrow hitting its target. He had missed.

He cursed. "Where the hell is it?"

"We can't risk trying to figure it out," said Lauren. The tugging in her stomach returned threefold. It hurt. "We have to get to the tree!"

She didn't wait for a reply. Pulling an arrow out of her quiver, she rammed it into the trunk of a tree to her left and propelled herself sideward.

There was the sound of something whistling through the air. The ground shook. Lauren spared a glance back and found an inch deep hole in the ground. Snow flew and Lauren assumed that the monster had pulled out its stinger. A few yards away from it, barreling towards her, was Clint.

The dull throbbing in Lauren's sternum confirmed that they were definitely heading in the right direction.

Lauren ran faster than she ever had in her life, knowing that the monster was incredibly agile. Hopefully Clint could keep up. If he couldn't, she didn't know what she could do.

That thought was banished from her mind when he was suddenly running at her side, out of breath but no worse for wear.

"Where's the goddamn tree?" he demanded.

Just as he said that, they spotted it.

A massive tree with roots buried in the snow. Its branches gathered together at the base to form the trunk, which was a swirl of wood and bark. It was as large as she recalled, but the roots were thicker and more elevated. As if they were covering something.

They entered the clearing where the Anegnoro was. Clint sped up.

"Get your sword up!" said Lauren. "Distract the monster for me."

"Easier said than done," he grunted, but nevertheless slung his bow over his shoulder and unsheathed the sword. "How do I go about this?"

Before he had finished speaking, Lauren heard the monster scuttle into the clearing. Barton immediately took a large step forward and swiped his blade, and it looked like he was attacking the air. The sword didn't hit the monster.

Barton jumped backwards, shuffling on his feet, incredibly alert but never staying in one place. Considering their circumstances, it was the best he could do.

"You got my back, right, Lauren?" he said, sounding a bit shaky.

There was a ripple of light a few ways in front of him.

"Dodge left!" Lauren shouted. Barton dove to the side just as another hole appeared in the snow.

Lauren slid onto her knees in front of the Anegnoro and got an arrow out of her quiver. She used it to slice at the tree's roots. The shaft broke within seconds, barely causing a dent. And then she remembered the knives Proteus had lent to them. She got it out of her pack and hacked away at the roots.

She twisted her abdomen and immediately said, "Dodge right, stab left!"

There was the crunch of snow and the sound of bronze hitting armor.

Snow and splinters of wood were soon shooting out everywhere. Lauren didn't stop until she had cut away two of the tree's roots—only stopping every now and again to aid Barton. In the end, it looked like she had forged a small door for her to crawl into.

"I'm going into the tree!" she yelled. If Barton thought that sounded odd, he made no comment.

The tree was hollow—or at least the base of it was. The ground beneath it was bare of snow. As Lauren got her arms and knees through the opening, she looked behind and saw Clint jumping around in the snow.

He was fast, and he was using his sword well to deflect attacks, but Lauren knew that he would make a mistake sooner or later. She wiggled around in the tight space, searching for a hidden plant or some kind of weapon.

It came to her attention that there was another layer of roots just beneath the middle of the tree. Strange. But it made her search easier.

She had just cut through the second wall of timber when she heard Barton scream in pain. It didn't sound right when she knew that he was a professional government spy.

Lying on the ground beneath the base of the tree was a sword. But it didn't look like Celestial bronze. If anything, it looked like a regular, iron sword.

There was a series of thuds followed by the trembling of the ground. Not knowing what else to do, Lauren retrieved the sword and scrambled out of the tree and back onto her feet.

Agent Barton was on his back. In front of him, the scorpion's trail abruptly stopped. That meant it had to be towering over him.

Defiantly, Lauren surged forward and used the metal sword to slice at the monster's side. She felt the blade pass through its armor and cut through flesh.

A wail rang across the woods. The sound made Lauren's ears ring. The sword may not have looked like much, but it was obviously lethal to the scorpion.

Lauren hacked at its side again and vile-smelling, black blood came pouring out. This time, the scorpion retaliated. Not knowing what to expect, she felt something thick and elongated smack her square in the stomach.

She was sent flying across the clearing. Lauren thought that the monster only wanted to get her away enough to be able to kill Barton, but she had obviously angered it. She had the feeling that its beady eyes were trained on her.

Soon, it continued its trail once more, this time heading straight towards her.

She pushed herself off the ground and ran.


	26. Chapter 25 - Crete - Part 2

Her dreams came into fruition.

There she was, running past trees and nearly tripping on the thick mounds of snow beneath her feet, breath steaming in the air, the scorpion chasing her for the kill.

There was another detail similar to those in her dreams, and it was that she had no idea what she was going to do. Perhaps climb into one of the trees and attack from above? There was no way she would be able to outrun the monster and scale the slippery bark at the same time.

How could she even hope to pinpoint its exact location when the sun was already on its way down?

She heard a whistling sound and was forced to act fast. Diving to the side, Lauren watched the scorpion's stinger bury itself into the ground she had just been on a second ago. Snow flew up from the sides of the hole and the scorpion's trajectory was renewed.

The amount of fear Lauren felt at that moment spiked enormously.

Instinctively, she rolled sideward to once again evade the monster's stinger.

The ground shook from the impact. Lauren had just enough time to catch a glimpse of the monster rearing its tail back before she planted her foot in the snow and kicked off. Her foot had been an inch away from being impaled by the monster's stinger.

She landed face-first in the snow but quickly collected herself. When she looked behind her, blinking, she noticed Barton stumbling into the scene, blood and another substance dripping from a gash that ran from his shoulder down to the center of his chest. She had no time to worry about him.

"Where is it?" she shouted.

"9 o'clock!"

Her knowledge on clocks was insufficient. She turned to the right and swung the sword, but it hit nothing. Instead, her ears caught the subtle whistling sound in the air. She moved to the side but was too slow.

The monster's stinger opened a shallow gash in her upper arm. A gasp of pain escaped Lauren. Blood flowed. The wound burned.

"Shit," Barton cursed. "Shit, shit, shit—Lauren, get out of there! I don't know where it is!"

"No," she said through gritted teeth, meeting his eyes with steely determination. "We kill it tonight—"

"STAB LEFT!"

Her body worked of its own accord. Bending her legs and twisting her abdomen, she stretched her arm out and stabbed what looked like empty air. But the blade cut through armor and flesh. She pulled her arm back and the steel came away covered in black blood. The monster screeched again.

"Barton…" Lauren's heart was pounding a hundred beats a minute. She stole a quick glance at him and kept his gaze. It was a shot in the dark, but she was fairly certain that it would work.

She nodded. "I trust you."

A look of surprise might have crossed his face, but she was too distracted to see it. She shuffled backwards when the monster backtracked on its trail. And then it moved to the side, backtracked again, and repeated the process.

Lauren scowled and looked to Barton, but he was just as clueless. By the time she'd figured out what the thing was doing, it was already too late.

Its very specific movements had cleared away the snow in the glade they were in, making it so that Lauren could no longer see its trail. _Smart bastard._

"Move right!" Barton suddenly shouted, and then seemed to change his mind. "No—LEFT! Now back up—RIGHT!"

Lauren kept light on her feet and did everything that he said. His speech was quick, imprecise. A moment of indecision and reluctance on her part would surely lead to her death or some sort of serious injury. And she didn't want to die. Not yet, at least.

The next minute consisted of her weaving past the monster's attacks. Her eyes were narrowed, ears pricked, mind and body working at overdrive. She was certain she had never been so focused in her life.

Barton never stopped calling orders. His pupils moved left and right at a rapid pace. He was holding his bow so tight that his knuckles turned white.

"Left—Jump right, NOW!"

She did so and evaded yet another attack, but promptly ran into a tree. Her shoulder took the brunt of the collision. For a moment, her vision became fuzzy from the pain. Her ears rang, but the sound was inconsistent due to the erratic beating of her heart. The sword was still in her hand.

Despite her dazed state, she still heard Barton practically screech, "TURN AND SWING!"

Lauren fought past the burning in her shoulder and swung her sword arm, creating an arc over her head. She felt the blade slice through the monster's armor and then through flesh. But it was strangely short.

Something fell out of thin air. One third of the monster's tail. And then yellow liquid began pouring out from where Lauren supposed the remainder of its tail was. Several spurts landed on Lauren's neck and shoulders.

She only had enough time to see the air flicker in front of her, revealing the whole of the scorpion in a millisecond, before the pain hit her like a tidal wave.

Her skin was being seared off. Melting. Peeling away. At least, that was what it felt like. Lauren felt hands grab her arm and start dragging her away from the monster. She screamed; writhed on the ground. The sword was no longer in her possession.

Through the dark haze that had blanketed her vision, she saw Barton skewer the scorpion's skull. And with such force that its head dropped down, pushed by the hilt. The other end of the sword peeked out from the bottom of the monster's cranium.

Lauren felt some sense of satisfaction at seeing the monster dead, unmoving. There was still pain—multitudes of it. But she remembered that Barton had been injured as well. And he was human.

She made to push off the ground, yet the pain engulfed her as soon as she tried. Black spots appeared in her vision and she collapsed onto her side.

Her voice came out raspy when she spoke. "Barton…" Though she wasn't even sure anything had come out. "Clint."

There was the soft crunch of feet hitting snow before his wide figure came into view. He crouched by her side, holding his hands out to her, as if he wanted to touch her but couldn't. There was panic in his eyes—it was the first time she had seen such an emotion in them—and also revulsion. That was only expected. She must look quite horrific.

"Ambrosia… in my bag…" She adjusted so that he could get better access to the pack on her shoulders.

He pulled the zipper open and rummaged around in a rough manner. Lauren couldn't find the strength to complain. The pain in her neck and shoulders had subsided the tiniest bit, replaced by a disturbing buzz. It felt like tiny ants were crawling in her skin, like acid was sizzling and popping in her flesh.

Barton eventually found the square of ambrosia and unwrapped it. He gave the whole thing to her. With shaky hands, she broke off one-fourth of it and stuffed it into her mouth.

The effects came slowly and in small amounts. She felt an ache where her wounds were, and hoped that it was the skin knitting back together. The crawling feeling didn't go away, but her vision heightened. She could see that the sun was now completely gone.

Agent Barton stumbled off to the side and began vomiting the little content he had left in his stomach. Gingerly, Lauren got her feet back under her and walked to him with shaky legs.

He fell to his knees in front of his mess, trembling violently. She broke of a small piece of ambrosia—no smaller than an apple seed—placed a hand on his shoulder and muttered, "Eat this."

She showed him the ambrosia piece, and he shook his head. "Won't I die?"

"We'll have to risk it." And something told her that he wouldn't die so quickly by eating such a small piece. There had to be something _not_ human about him. He did look like Orion, after all.

He opened his mouth and Lauren placed the ambrosia on his tongue. She waited for him to burst into flames, to drop to the ground, boneless and dead. But he didn't.

He only licked his lips. "Tastes just as awesome as you said."

Taking his ability to speak as a good sign, Lauren took a moment to gather her thoughts. The prophecy… She turned and limped to the giant scorpion's body. The sword was still buried in its skull. Lauren pulled it out, being extra careful with the acid dripping down the blade.

And then a thought occurred to her.

 _Could this substance possibly be Orion's bane?_

The pieces fit together with the lore. A scorpion that Gaea sent had originally killed Orion; its poison had stopped his heart.

Lauren wouldn't be surprised if the sword she had found beneath the Anegnoro was another weakness of his as well. It was the only thing that hadn't been corroded by the scorpion's venom.

She lugged the sword with her as she returned to Barton. Kneeling by him, she gripped his arm.

"We have to get back to civilization," she said. "Can you stand?"

"Yeah."

He used his hands as leverage to get himself on his feet, before his knees promptly buckled. He would have fallen into the puddle of his own vomit had Lauren not caught him.

Grunting in exertion, she placed his arm around her shoulders and wrapped hers around his back, supporting him. Her other hand gripped the sword.

Beneath his weight, the pain from her wounds returned. She grit through it and made the first step.

"Come on."

* * *

 **NIGHT 7**

The next hour passed excruciatingly slowly. Lauren would have thought that Barton had passed out while they were walking, if it weren't for the fact that he was supporting half of his weight with his own two feet. He was still incredibly heavy. Lauren was positive that her wounds had opened up again, if the intense pain was anything consider.

With every step she took, it became harder and harder to keep her eyes open.

No monsters attacked them. There wasn't even a twig cracking in the distance, or the telltale sound of a wild animal. Something to marvel about, considering that it was already dark out.

It was as if the world had stopped spinning and that the only purpose left was to find other people who would help them. The silence was a blessing from the gods, no matter how idle they may have been as of late.

But ultimately, there came the time when Barton's head began drooping. He became heavier. Lauren thought it best to break the silence, have him focused on talking—anything to keep him from falling unconscious.

"Do you have any family, Agent Barton?" she asked.

He raised his head and grunted. "Sure… Wife, two kids, one on the way…"

Lauren hadn't been expecting him to respond in such detail, though she supposed it was a good thing that he even _remembered_ those details. "What are their names?"

"Well, there's Cooper… a boy… And Lila, a girl."

In the distance, Lauren could see a break in the tree line. After a few more steps, she saw a house. Small, simple, but it had to be enough. "And the one on the way—do you have a planned name yet?"

"We're hoping it's gonna be a girl… Natasha, after her godmother."

"And who is her godmother?"

"I forgot that you never knew her real name… Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow. She told me you don't like her very much."

Lauren was too exhausted to be surprised. "I'm sure the baby is going to be beautiful."

The house was only a few meters away now. The lights were on inside, but she thought against catching their attention by making a ruckus. They could panic and think that she and Barton were hostile.

"I phoned them before we went on this quest, you know," Barton suddenly said. "Told them I'd be back and that I'd cook something on the grill… They love it when I cook…"

Tears gathered in her eyes, born of frustration and pain. "Well, we will just have to make sure that you return to them, yes?"

He scoffed a bit. "You sound just like Tasha."

Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot…

They broke past the tree line and Lauren hastened. "Just stay awake, alright, Barton?" He didn't reply. "Clint?"

His arm fell away from her shoulders and he collapsed in a heap on the snow. Cursing, Lauren stumbled onto the front porch of the house and banged her fist on the door. "Help! Please! Open the doo—" She thought better of herself. " _My friend and I were attacked in the woods. Please, help us._ "

The more she spoke, the more she felt the fatigue settling in her bones. Her knees buckled.

" _Open the door._ Please… _Help…_ "

When it became apparent that no one was going to welcome her in, Lauren turned and made her way back to Barton. But her foot caught on something—it must have been a rock—and she fell face-first to the ground.

The snow made contact with her wounds, numbing the pain. Her breathing eventually eased out. With bleary eyes, she stared at the mounds of snow in front of her. They looked like tiny, white gems mined from the deepest parts of the earth.

She thought that she could get used to just lying there. It was painless, peaceful, almost. Not having to worry about Khione, or Orion, or the Frost Giants. Not having to watch out for the end of the world every day. She could stay there and make snow angels until winter came again the next year, and she would be buried by the white gems.

At least her grave would be beautiful. At least she would have a grave. It was better than what most people got.

Her ears perked up at the sound of a door creaking open, before she fell unconscious.

* * *

Lauren felt warm when she woke up, but not intensely so. That was the only good thing she noticed so far. Her limbs ached, her mouth tasted like something had crawled into it and died, and her head was pounding. But she was alive.

Slowly, she opened her eyes. She was met with the sight of a yellow wall. The wallpaper was peeling off, and the cement behind it was a dark grey. In the far corner, there was a washbasin and a mirror. That was all. It came to Lauren's attention that it was a very small room she was in. But it was cozy.

Looking down, she found that she was cocooned in blankets. She also found that it didn't hurt much when she craned her neck, and that was definitely a welcomed change.

Still, there lied the question: who had taken her and Barton in, and who had taken such good care of them?

With exaggeratedly tentative movements, she peeled the blankets off of her body and placed her feet on the cool floor. A shudder ran down her back and she stretched, waiting for the satisfying crack in her shoulders and spine before allowing herself to become serious again.

Beside the mirror and washbasin, there was a window. Lauren frowned when she noticed the sunlight streaming into the room. It had been evening when she had practically dragged Barton to the house…

Had they really slept through the night? Or had it just been her? Because either way, it was the first time in a long while that _either_ she or Barton had gotten an ample amount of sleep.

She started to trust their keepers even more now. They could have killed her while she was asleep, or chained her to the wall, or left her and Barton outside to freeze to death. They hadn't, and that was something.

But with the thought of morning, something dawned on her.

It was the first night she'd slept through, in nearly a month, without having a nightmare. In which she had to face her death over and over again.

Gathering her thoughts, she walked to the window and looked outside. Everything looked much less threatening in the sunlight, but the snow looked just as magnificent. Clumps of white crystals fell from the sky even though it was morning, and that was enough of a sign that they were deep into winter.

 _Speaking of winter…_

How lucky they had been that Khione hadn't caught them when she killed the scorpion, or when she hacked through the Anegnoro. Lauren was sure that Khione had been more careful to keep Orion's bane hidden away, so why hadn't there been more complications?

Not that she was complaining. She was just skeptical.

But her skepticism soon turned into dread when she turned and beheld herself in the mirror. At first, nothing seemed to be off about her. Her hair was a mess, there were dark circles beneath her eyes, but it was nothing she hadn't seen before. And her shirt had been changed, though her jeans were just as filthy and torn as before. Her weapons weren't on her figure; she would look for those later.

Her attention was focused solely on the monstrosity on her neck.

Instead of the smooth skin she had lived with all her life, there was a large patch of silvery, uneven skin that ran from the base of her jaw, down her neck, and disappeared into the neckline of her shirt.

Lauren pulled the shirt over her head, modesty being the last thing on her mind, and was horrified to find that the scar went all the way to her shoulder blade. On her chest, there were more examples, albeit smaller. And on her upper left arm was a straight silver line.

She prodded at the one on her neck and grimaced; not because it hurt, but because of how it felt beneath her fingers. It was as if the skin had been stitched back together by an old woman's inexperienced, shaky hand.

Artemis had once told them that they should be thankful for the wounds they received. Scars reminded them how far they'd come, how many enemies they'd plowed through, how long they had survived. But the _thing_ Lauren was staring at wasn't a blessing. It was a curse.

She felt the bile bubbling up from her stomach and pulled the shirt back onto her body, looking away before she could retch all over the mirror. It wasn't her house, after all.

There was only one way in and out of the room she was in (not counting the window) and that was the door adjacent the mirror. She turned the knob and stepped out into the hallway… and was promptly met with the sight of a shirtless Agent Barton.

Now, Lauren had seen a shirtless man before, but only once, and his body had been—to put it bluntly—unimpressive. Agent Barton was a different story. Still, Lauren kept her wits about her and looked away, an action that had practically become instinctive after so long living with the Hunters.

"You're awake," said Barton, sounding rather surprised.

"It appears so."

"I thought you weren't gonna—" He stopped abruptly, and Lauren returned her attention to him and found that his eyes were trained on the visible part of the scar on her neck. Shock crossed his face. "I… I didn't know it was that bad."

"The ambrosia closed the wound, but even the food of the gods has its limits. And there had to have been some magical elements in the scorpion's venom… If it's enough to kill Orion, then it's enough to counteract ambrosia."

"At least we match now."

Lauren frowned. "Pardon?"

"Look."

He pointed at his chest. Reluctantly, Lauren lowered her eyes and saw a diagonal, jagged scar running from his left collarbone to the center of his chest. It had the same silvery quality about it, the same uneven stitching. At least his was thinner, easier to conceal.

"Does it still hurt?" she asked.

"No. The ambrosia you fed me worked wonders. But…" He shifted on his feet. "You said before that humans would die from eating even a crumb of that stuff. How am I still alive?"

"I made the connection last night. You have to look like Orion for a reason. You must be a descendant of his."

"Orion had children?"

Lauren shrugged. "It is possible. He lived many years on his own before he met Artemis and joined the Hunt."

"So there's a possibility that my great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather is a giant, still alive, and is threatening the universe with his archery set. And he's by Yggdrasil right now, possibly learning all the secrets of the Nine Worlds, while his friends—Khione, that guy who lost a hand, and the Frost Giants—are terrorizing us." He sighed. "Great."

Placing a thoughtful look onto her face, Lauren nodded. "Include the fact that we nearly died more than three times this past week, yes, you have it covered."

"I knew you had a sense of humor in there somewhere."

Barton grinned, and she plastered on a smile in return.

At that same moment, she heard a door closing downstairs, and that was the only time Lauren realized that there _was_ a downstairs. There were voices, and she stiffened. Barton only sighed, as if he had been expecting the arrival.

"That'd be Beth's dad. He'll want to meet you."

Lauren grew even more anxious. "Who is _Beth_?"


	27. Chapter 26 - Respite

Beth was a middle-aged American woman with dirty blonde hair and big green eyes. Her father was the one who had just arrived. His name was Joseph, but after Beth told Lauren and Barton to call him that, he corrected her with a scowl: "Tell them to just call me Joe!"

Beth pursed her lips, so Lauren figured that she didn't like the nickname very much. She complied though. Lauren didn't know how many times she'd gone against his wishes before. Maybe she was just doing what he said because there were guests.

She had prepared a full meal for Lauren and Clint—simple but hearty. A plate of smoked pork topped with sunny side up eggs was set on the cloth place mat in front of Lauren. In one corner of the plate was a large glob of cream cheese; on the other was a small pile of greens and baby tomatoes. Taking a quick glance around the small, square table, Lauren found that she had the same platter of food as everyone else, which made her feel less abashed.

Beth had poured from the pitcher of cool orange juice into Barton's glass. She reached for Lauren's glass, but Lauren stopped her.

"I think I can pour juice on my own, thanks," said Lauren, trying to sound as polite as possible. (But Joe was staring at the mark on her neck, making it quite difficult.)

"Oh, of course." Beth immediately set the pitcher down. Lauren reached for the pitcher and poured herself a glass and, afterwards, proceeded to down the sweet juice in a matter of seconds. She hadn't realized how thirsty she was.

Joe was still staring at her, Beth smiled and gestured for her to feel free to get some more juice, and Barton looked like he was choking back laughter. Lauren looked down at her plate and did her best not to look too embarrassed. Consciously, she picked up her fork, about to start with the eggs when she remembered something.

"Do you have a fireplace here somewhere?" she asked.

"Oh, are you cold?" said Beth. "We can turn up the heaters if you want."

She made a move to stand but Lauren reached over and grabbed her wrists, promptly tugging her back into her seat. "No, no, it's fine. Just, no reason."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

Barton began eating his smoked pork first. There was a large bowl of bread sitting in the middle of the table. Joe grabbed one of the loaves, tore it into half, and spread the cream cheese onto its insides. As he was doing so, he raised his eyes and returned his gaze to Lauren's scar, nodding at her.

"How'd you get that?"

Beth made an exasperated sound at the back of her throat. "Dad, what did I say about being _polite_ —?"

"She slept in your mother's room while you had to take care of her for the whole night," Joe retorted. "And her friend has practically the same thing on his chest. I'd like to know if we've taken in some vigilantes or not."

Beth winced at the mention of her mother. Upon seeing this, Lauren almost rose from her seat, a threat directed towards Joe already on the tip of her tongue, but Barton grabbed her arm and all but pulled her back down. Lauren scowled at him and he fixed her with a warning stare.

"We're not looking for a fight, sir," he said. "First of all, I would like to personally thank you for letting us into your home. I know it must not have been easy, letting a couple of strangers past your door."

"You got that right."

"Second of all, we are not vigilantes. This I can assure you." (Lauren scoffed but easily hid her haughtiness.) "Last night, we got attacked by a group of thugs."

Joe narrowed his eyes. "Not many thugs in this area."

"That's what happened." Clint shrugged. "They poured some kind of acid on Lauren to keep her weak, and they had the same stuff soaking their knives."

"You're damn right it was acid," Joe grumbled. "I'd know those kinds of scars anywhere."

Lauren became suspicious; her eyes narrowed into slits. "How?"

"Dad's a war veteran," Beth clarified.

Artemis had a deep-rooted respect for anyone who participated in wars—anyone who fought in the right side, anyway. Because of this, Lauren tried to look at Joe in a different light. He was still an annoying man, but an annoying man she could come to respect.

With that, they settled into a comfortable silence. Barton speared his food, apparently famished; Beth picked at hers but still ate a considerable amount; Joe finished his entire plate, all while throwing distrustful glances at Barton and Lauren.

But while she barely ate her food, Lauren noticed that the wind had picked up outside. Heavier sheets of snow were falling, and she had a sneaking suspicion as to why that was happening.

She looked to Beth and put on her kindest smile. "Can I use your comfort room, please?"

"Oh! Of course," said Beth. "I have some new clothes for you out back if you'd like to change. Your shirt and jacket got ruined, but I thought that you'd want to keep the pants."

Why would she want to change? The clothes she had been provided with were comfortable enough; though some sadness crept into Lauren at finding out that her parka had been ruined, she supposed that it could be easily replaced.

"I'm fine with these, but thank you."

Beth pointed down the hall to a door painted gray. Lauren nodded in thanks and made for the door, making sure to pass by Barton. "Befriend them if you must. We need to leave. Soon," she muttered into his ear before weaving past him.

She could feel eyes boring into the back of her head. Probably Joe's.

Her demigod senses were making noise as well. The danger hadn't arrived yet, but it was close.

Lauren went to the back of the house—where Beth had said some new clothes were—and found her and Barton's bags there as well, covered in large blankets. She dug around in her bag until she found a pouch of drachmas.

She continued to the bathroom, closed the door behind her and opened the window on the far side of the tiled room. Sunlight came streaming in, and even without Lauren having to manipulate it, it hit the mirror above the sink perfectly. Extremely lucky for her, it was still early enough for the morning mist to come creeping in through the window.

As soon as the rainbow formed, Lauren said, "Oh Fleecy, do me a solid." She tossed the drachma into the rainbow and it disappeared. "Show me Director Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D."

She had no idea where he could be, but apparently she had been specific enough with his name.

The mist showed her a dark office. Very few pictures lined the walls; organizers practically littered the place; at the very end, there was a large desk. Here, Fury sat, his head bowed and eyes running over a file.

"Director Fury," Lauren greeted.

He raised his head and looked slightly to the left of the Iris Message, where Lauren supposed the door was, already frowning. When he saw that the door hadn't been opened, his frown deepened.

"Director," Lauren repeated.

He reached for his gun. "Who's there?"

 _Oh,_ Lauren thought, realizing why he wasn't looking at the Iris Message. He couldn't see through the Mist, unlike the rest of the Avengers. At best, all he could see at the moment was a faint glimmer in the air. But at least he could hear her.

"Director Fury, it's Lauren Brooks. The Mist is not allowing you to see me, but I have a request."

He shook his head, his hand still on his gun. "How do I know that it's really you and not some powerful nutjob like Loki?"

"What would you like to know?"

"… The first time you tried to escape this facility, one of my agents caught you and brought you back to your cell. Who was it?"

Lauren struggled to grasp the name of the agent for a moment. "Agent Phil Coulson."

Fury was quiet for a second or two, and then he nodded.

"Now for the request." Lauren squared her shoulders even though Fury couldn't see her. "Barton and I have found the bane, but we have no means of returning to Camp Half-Blood by nightfall. Send one of your jets to pick us up here at Crete."

He placed his hands in front of him, one on top of the other. "That sounds more like an order than a request."

"I know, because it _is_ an order. Pick us up or lose the bane to Khione."

"Khione's found you?"

"No, but she is searching. I can sense it. She knows that the scorpion was killed and that the sword was stolen. She knows it was us."

He leaned forward a bit. "Hold on. What scorpion? And what sword?"

Lauren made a sound of exasperation. "We do not have time for this! Send your fastest jet and…" She glanced out of the window and searched for the sun. "Meet us at the east of the island. Bring guns… and flamethrowers. Just in case."

He opened his mouth to voice what Lauren assumed was going to be a question, but she'd waved her hand through the mist before he could say anything. She took out another drachma and repeated what she had done before, but this time, she said, "Show me Chiron in Camp Half-Blood."

What appeared in the mist wasn't all she'd expected.

Chiron was out of his wheelchair and wearing a breastplate, but it looked loose and a bit crooked on his chest, as if he had put it on in a hurry. Sweat beaded his face. A sword was in his hand and he was hacking away at a _Scythian dracaena_. Several more of the female monsters were in the background, fighting with campers and Hunters alike. Among the camp's fighters was Jill. She held a sword and fought ruthlessly with a particularly large _empousa_.

Obviously, Lauren had called at an inconvenient time.

"Chiron!" she called as soon as the centaur had killed the _dracaena_ he'd been battling with.

His head snapped to the side and he beheld the Iris Message with wide eyes. "Lauren?" he said. "This isn't the perfect time to talk, I'm afraid. Perhaps in an hour or so."

"We found it, Chiron," she told him. "We are bringing it back."

He nodded briskly. "That's good. Very— _di immortales_!"

An arrow came whizzing past, narrowly missing Chiron's nose by millimeters. In a blur, he sheathed his blade, strung his bow, and released an arrow at something off screen. As soon as he did, Lauren heard the beginnings of a drumbeat. War drums.

"There are more of them." Chiron's face darkened and he barked orders to his right. "Jason! Take your team and go to the Fleece! Help the Hunters!"

There was an inaudible reply. Lauren's fingers were itching. She leaned forward slightly, about to take a step before she remembered that this was just an Iris Message.

"Come quickly, Lauren," said Chiron. Then he waved his hand across the mist and the message disappeared.

Lauren pounded her fist on the wall.

Khione knew about the stolen sword, and the dead scorpion. She knew and she was angry. But she wasn't taking it out on Lauren and Barton. She was taking it out on the Camp.

For some gods forsaken reason, she had decided to attack the Camp—a place with more fighters and a _dragon_ —than to attack Barton and Lauren—two people who were alone in Greece, holding precious cargo, and very, very tired.

Why?

There was a knock on the door.

Quickly, Lauren closed the pouch of drachmas and gripped it behind her back. With her free hand, she opened the door.

"They told me to check on you," said Barton, "Said you were taking too long. I heard talking. What's going on?"

"I called Fury. He is sending a jet to our coordinates."

"You work fast." Clint blinked. "But that's not all. Your face is saying a lot. What else did he say?"

" _He_ didn't say anything." Lauren wiped away whatever emotion might have been on her face; she refused to be read so easily. "I spoke with Chiron. The Camp is being attacked."

"Well, yeah, but we already knew that—"

"I mean now. Right now. Chiron was engaged in battle when the Iris Message came through to him.

Barton expression fell. "Oh."

Lauren shook her head and walked past him. "Come. We have to excuse ourselves from… our gracious hosts."

"What are you gonna tell them?"

"Nothing. Just that we have to leave."

"Good luck with that."

Lauren scowled at him. They entered the dining room to find Beth right where they had left her, but Joe was nowhere in sight. His plate was empty; so was Beth's.

Beth looked up at them and smiled. "Oh, there you are," she said. "I hope you don't mind. We've gotten used to eating quickly."

"It's fine," Barton replied. "Where's your dad?"

"Retired to his room. I think's he gonna take a nap. He had a late night and a very early morning."

 _Understandable,_ Lauren thought, stepping up. "We thank you for your hospitality. Truly. But my… uncle and I, we really have to get going."

The woman's face dropped. "Are you sure you don't want to stay? At least until lunch? You were in pretty bad shape last night…"

"Trust me, you do not want us to stay longer than necessary."

"That's too bad." Beth stood up from her seat. "It gets a bit lonely here with just dad around… He seems to get tired of me pretty easily."

Lauren tried to ignore the woman's words, not needing to become attached, but what she said hit her like a blow to the gut. A bit petty, but relatable. Realistic. Genuine. Lauren watched Beth walk to the doorway, where she glanced over her shoulder and at Barton.

"Follow me. Your stuff's out back… with the bunch of sticks you brought with you."

When she turned back around, Barton looked at Lauren, probably thinking, _Sticks?_

Lauren mouthed to him, _The Mist._

He nodded but the crease remained on his forehead.

They followed Beth to the back of the house. As Lauren already knew, her and Barton's packs were on two separate boxes. Because she had taken off the blanket from her own bag, a small amount of snow had collected on it, whereas Barton's was as clean as it had been last night. Lauren stuffed the pouch of drachmas into the side pocket and shouldered her bag; Barton did the same.

"And here are your sticks. Walking sticks, I guess," said Beth, passing them their bows.

Lauren nodded. "My uncle is older than he looks."

Barton raised an eyebrow at her, and she shrugged, handing him his bow and quiver. He slung them over his shoulder while Beth was turned around and getting their swords. And not knowing that they were swords, Beth held both of them by the blade.

The sword Barton had been paired with ever since the beginning of their Quest was sheathed, but the sword Lauren had found beneath the Anegnoro was bare. Barton hastily took his sword from her, but just as Lauren was pulling her sword from Beth's hand, Beth winced and promptly let go of the blade.

She held her hand against her stomach for a moment before pulling it away. There was a shallow cut in the base of her palm. Not too large, which Lauren was thankful for. She didn't know how she would have explained that.

"I apologize," Lauren said. "We found these two in the woods just before you found us. We have not found the time to remove the splinters."

Beth waved her away, putting on a shaky smile. "It's fine." The surprise was clear on her face though.

"You should clean that."

Leaning down, Beth picked up a handful of snow in her injured hand and kept it packed there. Lauren stared at her approvingly.

Meanwhile, she could sense the power pouring out from the sword in spades, more so than before. It seemed to be humming with energy. She had no idea why she hadn't noticed the night before. Eyeing it with cautious reverence, she adjusted her grip, trying to find the right hold.

The hilt seemed to re-form itself, until such a time that Lauren was positive no other sword could be more perfect for her. Its humming reverberated through her, rattling her bones in a surprisingly gentle manner. It soothed her.

 _This is not just any sword,_ she mused in awe.

"Is that all?" Beth asked, eyeing Lauren with puzzlement.

"Yes, thank you," replied Barton, nodding to the woman with a gentle smile. A blush crept up Beth's neck before she looked away.

Lauren rolled her eyes and said, "We should get going, _uncle_."

Barton threw her a look of impatience. Raising her eyebrows, Lauren subtly flicked her eyes upwards. The sky was gradually turning dark; clouds churned and swirled into a large mass of snow and blackness. In the middle was an opening barely larger than a house—the eye of the storm. Lauren eyed the maelstrom with distaste.

"Oh," said Clint.

"You should stay inside for the rest of the day." Lauren gripped Beth's arm and squeezed. "Tell your father to keep from going outside, alright?"

She hastily nodded. "What about you guys? That blizzard looks pretty bad."

 _Tell me about it,_ Lauren thought. "We will be fine. Try to worry about yourselves for the next few days."

"Okay…"

Lauren gently tugged on Barton's sleeve and turned them around, determined to arrive at the shore of the island before Fury's jet did, lest they walk into something they had no idea about—something they wouldn't even see through the Mist.

Before she could change her mind and say more to Beth, she quickened her pace and got them out of the clearing. She tried to hold the sword as casually as possible, but she was sure she looked stupid in the eyes of Clint, who could see past the Mist; she held the blade away from her by the hilt, like how she would a walking stick or a staff.

When they were far enough away from the house, Lauren looked to Barton and, indeed, he was smirking like a fool. She rolled her eyes and brought the sword up. Sunlight hit the metal and refracted onto her face. She squinted and inspected it for runes, any symbol that could explain its victory against the scorpion's armor.

There was a symbol on the base of the handle, just below the hilt. It didn't look Greek or Roman, but she had the feeling that it was of some other ancient civilization… She would have Chiron look at it as soon as possible.

As they walked, she kept staring down at the rune, troubled by how familiar it looked. She had seen it before, but where? She'd never been to any Norse temples. The closest she had gotten to one was Asgard, though that place was undoubtedly more important than any shrine.

Barton's hand shot into view. "Let me see that," he said.

Lauren frowned but handed him the sword anyway. "Does it mean anything to you?"

"Yeah… Back when Thor's hammer had first crash landed in New Mexico, when I was still being briefed about everything Norse—Fury showed me pictures of Mjolnir, Thor's hammer. They were from the Internet but still surprisingly accurate." He ran his fingers over the rune, as if in awe. "This is the same symbol on Mjolnir."

Lauren's eyebrows shot up. "Exactly the same?"

"Exactly the same."

"It was not forged by any Greek, then." She took the sword back but held it in a different manner. More cautiously. "But that can't be right… How can something _not_ forged by a Greek be able to kill something Greek?"

"Why don't you ask Odin? I hear he knows everything."

A grim smirk crept up Lauren's lips. "Would praying to Thor bring him here? Because I really would like a faster way of transportation back to Long Island."

"No such luck, unfortunately. Tony tried that a couple of times. All he got was a broken nose and shattered pride."

Lauren frowned. "Thor came down just to hit him?"

"Didn't need to. Tasha got pissed of the noise and socked him on the face."

The fondness was obvious in his voice. She looked at him and wondered whether something had ever happened between him and Agent Romanoff, preferably _before_ he had gotten married. The corners of her lips dipped in an unconscious frown, and there was a sharp stab of pain in her chest.

Barton glanced at her. "What is it?"

She quickly eased her mask back on. "Just a thought. Nothing you need to worry about."

"Jeez, have you forgotten already?"

"What?" she said.

"Quest might be over, but we're still partners. And you told me yesterday that you trust me." He raised an eyebrow. "Do you still trust me?"

She was surprised to find that she didn't need to think much on it. "Yes." But after a moment, she still decided to go on with the white lie. "And it really was nothing. A foolish thought of no import."

He still didn't look convinced. "Lauren—"

Before he could say more, the noisy roaring of a jet reached their ears, getting louder and louder. The tree branches above them swayed, and strong gusts of wind blew at their clothes. The engine eventually died down, though it didn't sound very far off.

"That was fast," Barton muttered.

Lauren grunted in agreement and hastened past him, resolute in keeping her lie as much of a secret as possible. He trailed behind her wordlessly, and she knew that he knew that she was being cagey. Not much of her cared at that moment. She just wanted to get off of Crete and back to Camp.

After several minutes, the sound of voices became more and more apparent the farther they walked. The tree line broke not soon after, revealing the familiar Stark jet waiting on the beach. Tony stood by the pilot entrance, hands in his expensive jeans' pockets. Three S.H.I.E.L.D. agents stood beside him in a line, and one Natasha Romanoff.

She immediately strode away from the group and to Clint, tackling him in a bear hug and then asking all kinds of questions. Barton looked relieved to see her, and Lauren made it a point not to stare and just walked up to the jet.

Tony approached her with a smirk on his face, but abruptly stopped. His eyes were transfixed on her neck. Lauren grimaced.

"Did you guys go puddle jumping in acid?" he joked, but the crease on his forehead told her that he was very much concerned.

 _How flattering,_ she thought. "I will tell you everything in the plane. Just get us out of here."

She boarded the jet and made the mistake of glancing over her shoulder. Barton had his arm around Romanoff's shoulders, a look of contentment on his face. And for the first time in her life, Lauren saw a smile on Black Widow's face.

Another stab at her heart. Another insensible frown tugging at the corners of her lips. She turned away and disappeared into the comfort room, where she took her head in her hands and willed away the dangerous thoughts that had been rearing their ugly heads.


	28. Chapter 27 - Unplanned

**Action chapter! :D**

 **Also, I apologize for the long wait. We just finished up with the first week of regular classes, and goddamn if I'm not already stressed as all hell. HAHAHA**

 **But enough about me. How was your week? Feel free to tell me all about it in the comments! :)**

* * *

The journey back to America was filled with uneasy chatter. Barton and Romanoff sat beside each other, while the other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents sat across from them with their guns on their laps, still as statues. Lauren sat with them, but at the end, as far away from Hawkeye and the Widow as possible, and closer to Stark so she wouldn't have to raise her voice in order for him to hear.

As requested by him, she told him everything of her and Barton's voyage together. She made sure to keep some key points to herself, but everything significant, she explained in a very detailed manner. Stark, as expected, wouldn't shut his mouth for the entirety of her discourse.

It took all of her willpower not to break the glass of the plane's windshield and throw him into the Atlantic. Fury wouldn't be too happy with her if she did.

Once she finished with the story—ending with them waking up in Beth and Joe's residence—Tony said, "Well, your week was definitely more interesting than mine. All we got was more consistent power influxes at Long Island. Once, Steve suggested that we go there to help, but Fury wouldn't let us. Said a few offensive stuff about demigods that I don't really want to tell you."

Lauren narrowed her eyes. "What did he say?"

"I'd rather not be thrown into the Pacific, thank you."

If what Fury had said would be enough to make her _that_ angry, then it must have been very offensive. Without even knowing what it was exactly that Fury had said, she already wanted to strangle him.

He had seemed so amiable when she'd told him to send a jet to Greece, too. Maybe he was just more annoying in person, unlike Tony. Tony's voice was annoying, his face was annoying, his speech pattern was annoying—just everything about him, basically. But he had a redeeming quality about him, Lauren supposed. He saved people for a living. That had to be something.

So, she didn't reprimand him. She bowed her head and trained her eyes on the unsheathed blade on her lap, stroking the cool metal with her fingertips.

Outside, sleet rained down on the jet, but it was nothing irregular. And there hadn't been any alerts that the jet was freezing over, either.

Ever since they had boarded, Lauren was on high alert, wary of any signal that could mean a monster was near them. But no warnings came from Tony. No suspicious, alien, red dots appeared on the jet's radar.

They were almost completely across the Atlantic when Tony's radio signal crackled.

"— _ome in,_ " a woman's voice said. " _Repeat, Stark, come in._ "

"Agent Hill," Stark replied in a very businesslike manner. "What is it?"

" _Head straight for Camp Half-Blood. The rest of the team are on their way right now. Ready your suit._ "

Barton and Romanoff entered the cockpit.

"What is it?" said Clint.

" _Major readings of power incursion was spotted in the location of Camp… And apparently, Lauren's friend has us on speed dial._ "

"Which friend?" asked Lauren.

" _The kid. Ethan._ "

"What did he say?"

" _Just that there was a whole lot of them attacking Camp. Practically an army, he said._ "

Lauren's heart dropped into her stomach. She turned to Stark. "How quickly can you get us there?"

"In this storm? Not quick enough." But then he stopped and really _looked_ at her. There must have been something on her face—perhaps some deep-seated desperation—that stirred up his senses. He stretched an arm out and pushed her, Barton and Romanoff out of the cockpit.

"Buckle up," he told them. Lauren frowned at him in doubt, but then she saw the rest of the agents hurriedly doing as he said, so she did so as well.

Stark buckled on his seatbelt too, and flicked a switch on the control panel. "Hold on to something!"

Lauren barely had time to grab onto the armrests on either side of her before her head was thrown to the side. She could see Barton and Romanoff pressing their heads into the headrests, their eyes closed tight and their knuckles white from gripping the armrests so hard.

So surprised was she from the force that was currently pushing against her that it took her some time to realize that all of this was caused by their _speed_.

From the cockpit, Stark was cackling like a madman. " _Shiiiiiiit_ ," he yelled. Lauren knew that she couldn't voice out her thoughts any better than that.

Sleet was pounding against the jet so hard, Lauren wondered if she might go deaf. Nausea clawed at her like a wild dog. She gritted her teeth and ignored the light feeling in her stomach, kept from puking out everything Beth had fed them. She had a feeling that Romanoff wouldn't appreciate being covered in bile when they joined the battle in Camp Half-Blood.

This was why she didn't very much favor moving around via manmade machines, much less _flying_.

From the corner of her eye, she caught Stark's trembling hand reaching for the switch again. With a flick of his finger, the jet slowed down to its regular speed. Lauren's skull rattled from the abruptness of their stop. She quickly unbuckled the seatbelt and curled in on herself, pressing her forehead against the crevice between her knees.

She kept her eyes shut tight and her teeth grit—to the point that she was sure her teeth would break—until the queasiness drained out of her, leaving a bit of lightheadedness in its wake.

A collective groan rose from everyone within the jet.

"I didn't know you'd developed light speed transpo," Barton grumbled. "Nice job."

"Not light speed, but it's as close as I could get." Stark raised his head and Lauren thought she heard his breath catch in his throat. "We're here," he announced.

"Get us down," Lauren said, biting back another whimper.

"Lauren…"

The utter dismay in his voice was enough to banish the nausea left in her body. She rose to her feet, strode to the cockpit, and looked out the windshield. What she saw shocked her into absolute stillness.

Heavy sheets of snow fell into the vicinity of the Camp like it was nothing. The lava flowing down the climbing wall wasn't moving. It hadn't completely turned to rock, but it was close.

Littering the ground of the Camp—looking much like ants, from the jet's height—were demigods, wood nymphs, and satyrs alike. All of them had become invested in this one battle, but they were very clearly outnumbered.

Lauren could easily see everything from where she stood. _Scythian dracaenae_ , _Empousai_ , several Laistrygonian Giants, and considerably large wolves were laying waste to the encampment. Someone had set a portion of the Mess Hall on fire.

Lauren stared at the dark smoke trailing up into the atmosphere and scowled.

"Land. There." She pointed to the beach, where there was the least fighting.

Stark nodded once and set to getting them to the ground. Lauren slung her bow and quiver of arrows onto her back, and was just reaching for the glistening metal sword when she remembered something.

"The three of you," she said to the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. "Stay within this plane until I come back. You will be running in blind if you leave. None of you can see past the Mist."

They shared unsure glances at each other.

"I'll be as quick as I can. There should be a girl within the Camp that can remove the effects of the Mist from your eyes. If I do not return after ten minutes, assume that she is not in the Camp and that I am still aiding with the battle. _Do not leave this plane_."

She didn't wait for a reply. Stark had already got them onto stable ground and was turning the engines off. She stood by the doors and waited for them to open, sword held tight in her hand. She could hear the fighting past the metal of the jet—bronze clashing against iron, swords and arrowheads sinking into flesh.

"I'd listen to her if I were you," Barton continued. There was the telltale snort of Agent Romanoff. Lauren tried not to let it affect her too much. "What'll you be fighting with, Tasha?"

Romanoff raised two cylindrical devices that had wires travelling into her sleeve. And then she gestured to the portable flamethrower that she currently had strapped onto her back. "I've got myself covered," she said.

There was a very subtle hissing and then the doors split open. Before the ramp had even touched the snow-covered ground, Lauren was already out of the jet and thundering across the beach.

A young camper, no more than 14, was dodging the attacks of a _dracaena_. He didn't have a sword. Lauren ran up from behind the monster and quickly dispatched it. She took the spear it had dropped and handed it to the boy, who stared at her with surprise.

"Keep fighting," she ordered before continuing up the beach.

The strong scent of smoke invaded her nose, stinging the front of her brain. Satyrs, who went up against swords and arrows with pots and pans, were fending off a majority of the monsters that had reached the Mess Hall. They were doing a surprisingly good job. Lauren left them to it and headed for the creek, where most of the fighting seemed to be centered.

Several campers had surrounded a single Laistrygonian Giant, but they weren't doing a very good job of killing it. It swung its iron club down at them again and again, and they only dodged. It was large, but it was stupid.

The next time its club made impact with the ground, Lauren hopped onto it and ran up its arm. She deftly jumped over its head, slicing its skull open in the process. Gold dust erupted from its massive body, coating Lauren as she landed in a crouch.

By the creek, there were several stray _dracaenae_. None of the campers were intercepting it because they were busy with their own battles. Lauren jeered at the female monsters. They hissed. But just as they were turning around, Lauren ran each of them through. Their dust mixed with the water in the creek and flowed towards the lake.

Lauren normally wasn't so determined to kill monsters, but there was a poetic sense to it all, really.

She looked down at the sword in her hand. It was humming with life, and seemed to be glowing as well. Or perhaps it was just the powdered monster remains coating the blade. Nevertheless, she took advantage of the heightened energy in her bones. She killed every monster that passed her by, and even the ones that didn't. Campers who were having trouble dispatching with their given enemies were lent help.

Slowly but surely, she forged her way to Thalia's Pine.

Two Laistrygonian Giants stumbled onto her path. She scowled at them like they were a pair of cockroaches that she had unwantedly crushed under her heel. But they were smart. They attacked her as one. After an extensive amount of time, she was finally able to kill one of them.

But just as she was bringing her sword arm up to slay the second, a bright ray of white light shot past her and hit the Giant square on the chest. It fell onto its back with a loud thud and then the shaft of an arrow buried itself into its forehead.

Lauren looked up to see Tony hovering several feet above her, carrying Clint, who he dropped almost carelessly before flying off to aid in the fight. Barton looked at her with raised eyebrows, twirling an arrow in his hand.

"Where is Agent Romanoff?" Lauren asked.

"Clearing the beach. She'll follow into the camp when she's ready." He gave her an expectant look. "Shall we?"

As a pair, they trudged onward.

Lauren hacked away at the assailants that dared approach them. Either they were extremely bold or extremely foolish. It didn't matter. In the end, they ended up dead. Clint was firing arrows like there was no tomorrow. It seemed like he had gotten used to his new bow. A good thing, since he was going to be using it a lot for the next several days.

 _If_ they got through the day, that was.

He didn't seem to _want_ to be moving any time soon, though. If Lauren had to guess, he wanted to clear the area first before moving on. But she had other ideas.

"We need to get to Half-Blood Hill!" she yelled to be heard over the chaos all around them.

He spared a glance at her while bombarding a far away Laistrygonian with arrows. "Where's that?"

Using her sword, she pointed to the knoll where Thalia's Pine was located. "Just follow me." She sliced at any stray Barton couldn't shoot down with his bow.

Above them, a streak of red and gold flew past. Tony was firing white-hot blasts of energy at any monster in sight, and though they were only enough to faze them, a camper or two would always come along to finish the job.

Three _Scythian dracaenae_ approached Lauren with spears raised. They surrounded her; they were quick and smart. Whenever she tried to stab at them, their round shields would block her sword.

Barton's advances were met in very much the same way. Eventually, he slung his bow in favor of his sword and was able to draw away one of the _dracaena_.

Lauren became hard pressed in keeping the two remaining monsters at a safe distance from her. The sword still hummed in her hand, but it had been silenced, if that was even possible. Sometimes she felt the sword acting of its own accord, but none of its efforts were very successful.

Soon, one of the _dracaenae_ was able to nick Lauren's shoulder—the one with the acid burns. The _dracaena_ bared its teeth in its impression of a grin.

"What an ugly neck. I'd be more than happy to wring it for you."

"You've done it now," Barton grunted somewhere to the right.

Anger. The strong emotion welled up inside her and seemed to burst out in sparks through her fingertips. But she was no child of Zeus.

Instead, warmth travelled down her arm and continued into her sword. Its humming became stronger and made her arm visibly pulsate with power. It seemed to be pulling Lauren forward, saying, "They insulted you. Now they must die." And Lauren couldn't agree more.

She resumed attacking the _dracaenae_ with a vengeance. Stab, turn, parry, stab, swipe, turn, parry, stab. The _dracaenae_ began hissing bloody murder at her. One of them went down in a cloud of golden dust. Her companion turned tail and slithered away.

In the blink of an eye, Lauren had put down her sword and strung her bow. Her arrow flew the whole 10 yards that the _dracaena_ had run and buried itself into the creature's chest.

Lauren allowed herself a moment of pride before brushing the dust off of her frame. Barton finished up with his given enemy and took his place by her side, nodding at her.

"Where were we?" he said.

"On our way to help my Hunters," she replied. "Come on, they will be—"

She was interrupted by the sound of thundering hooves. Instinctively, she shoved Barton away and dove to the side. Brown horse legs trampled the ground she had just been on. Above them was the wide frame of Chiron.

He battled furiously with three _empousai_ that had nearly killed one of the younger campers. Behind him, a lone black wolf was stalking. Before Lauren could do it herself, Barton killed it with one of his arrows, catching Chiron's attention.

"Agent Barton, Lauren," said the centaur, so casually as if he wasn't currently trying to slay three of Khione's foot soldiers. "You're here."

"You nearly ran us over," Lauren snapped.

"Yes, sorry about that. I was quite distracted." He slashed an _empousa_ 's neck open. There was no gore, only more annoying dust. "Is that it? The sword?"

Lauren raised the blade in her hand. "It feels alive in my hand, as if it has a mind of its own."

"Well, more likely than not, it does."

"Good to know," Barton said. He released a volley of arrows at a small pack of wolves that were chasing a trio of demigods. "Lauren, where's this Hazel girl you were talking about?"

"Hazel?" said Chiron. "She and Frank returned to Camp Jupiter immediately after removing the Mist from the eyes of the Avengers. Why?"

"We have back-up from S.H.I.E.L.D. back in Stark's jet, but they still can't see past the Mist."

"I'm sorry, Agent Barton, but they'll have to stay there."

Clint huffed. "Could you give us a lift?"

"Probably." Chiron gave simultaneous deathblows to the two remaining _empousai_. "Where?"

"Thalia's Pine."

"Ah…" His expression darkened. "Get on. I will take you there. The Hunters are sure to find courage in your presence, Lauren. They are in sore need of it."

Without a second thought, Lauren swung onto Chiron's back and gestured for Barton to do the same.

He grumbled something under his breath—Lauren was too distracted to try and make it out—but did it nonetheless. There was no saddle, so it wasn't very comfortable; they found themselves sitting awkwardly close together.

Lauren gave Chiron's shoulder a light pat. "Let's go."

He brandished his sword and galloped forward. "Hyah!"

Lauren had no idea what she was going to hold on to, so she just squeezed her legs tight around Chiron's midsection and readied her bow.

Chiron hacked away at anything that came near them; Lauren and Barton dealt with the faraway threats with their arrows. Quicker than she could comprehend, they had arrived at the foot of Half-Blood Hill. Chiron deftly climbed the incline. What they found at the top was enough to make Lauren stop breathing.

The bodies of campers and Hunters alike littered the land and the thin forest below. She could count on one hand the amount of dead Hunters—and that was devastating in its own right—but the amount of dead campers easily tipped the scales.

There was so many. Too many.

In dread, Lauren scanned the fighters—both fallen and alive—trying to look for the face of Percy or Annabeth, but she couldn't find them.

Jason was single-handedly fighting off a horde of _dracaenae_ with his Imperial gold sword. A few ways from him, Piper was battling with two _empousai_ , yelling charmspeak at the same time. It didn't seem to be working. Her shirt was torn and bloody in several places.

Wordlessly, Barton hopped off of Chiron's back and rushed to help Piper. Lauren was about to fire arrows in Jason's aid when he thrust his sword upwards. Thunder immediately rumbled before a single bolt of lightning came down and killed every monster within his proximate vicinity.

He dropped his sword and promptly collapsed onto the ground.

"Jason!" Piper screamed.

Lauren jumped off Chiron's back and told him, "Help Jason!"

He trotted off without question.

She ran in the direction of Thalia's Pine, where the remaining Hunters had grouped together, protecting Peleus and the Fleece from monsters. One girl turned around and yelled something at the dragon in impatience. Her sisters were focused elsewhere. A wolf was running up the hill and straight for her.

Lauren quickly killed the wolf with an arrow. The beast landed at the girl's feet. She turned around and looked down at it with wide eyes, before raising her head to look at Lauren. Her eyes widened even further.

"Lauren?" she squeaked. At this, the rest of the Hunters stopped drawing their bows and turned their heads to have a glance at her. Needless to say, they were surprised.

"Lauren? You're back!" one of them said. "But that means…"

"We found the bane." She raised the sword but understood that she didn't have time to explain the details. "Everything seems rather horrible right now, doesn't it?"

The Hunters' frowns only deepened at her lame attempt at lightening the mood. That was understandable, she supposed, considering how many of them had fallen already, and how many enemies there were still left to vanquish. "Where is Jill?"

Just as she said this, someone came running up the hill. Lauren appraised her with a warm smile.

"I saw Agent Barton fighting down there and knew that you wouldn't be far away," said Jill. "It's good to have you with us again, Lauren." Then she frowned deeply, her eyes dipping to her neck. "What…?"

"A story for another time. But I have come to help," said Lauren. "How many of us are left?"

Jill made a swift headcount. "Ten, not including you."

Lauren grimaced. "That's not very much at all, but we have to split up. Cover more ground. Three will stay here with me and guard the Fleece. Three will help the campers flush out any monsters still within the Camp. Four will help Grace and McLean keep the Hill from getting overpowered. Any objections?" None were put forward. "I will take volunteers to stay with me and protect the Fleece."

"Me, of course," Jill said immediately.

"I'll stay with you," said Kali as she stepped up and showed herself.

"As will I," said Aria. Lauren should have expected. Aria and Kali were like sisters—separated only when the situation called for it. Much like herself and Jill.

She nodded. "The rest of you—sort yourselves and head for your given positions." She took a moment to look each of them in the eye. "The fight is not over yet, my sisters. We _will_ win this battle, and we _will_ win this war. Orion will learn to fear the Hunters of Artemis again."

Her short speech was met with miniature battle cries from the Hunters. The majority of them split into two groups. One rushed downhill to intercept the few incoming monsters, and the other ran the other side to help clear the Camp of hostiles. Lauren, Jill, Aria, and Kali were left standing on the hill.

Filled with a new sense of purpose, Lauren strode closer to Thalia's Pine. Only now did she notice that Peleus was crouched by the tree, his maw wide open and fire flooding out from his throat. The heat could be felt several feet away, but for some reason, the frost coating the Fleece would not thaw.

It didn't melt and regenerate. It _endured_ , despite Peleus' fire. Lauren stared at the Fleece with a frown.

"It's been like that for hours," Kali explained. "Chiron thinks that Peleus will be able to melt the ice eventually, plans to hold the fort until the Fleece starts working again. But…"

"It seems highly unlikely," Aria finished.

Jill looked at Lauren. "What do you think we should do?"

"The only thing we can do," said Lauren. "Keep the Camp from falling."

* * *

 **Shoutout to 100th Century for being an awesome reader! :)**


	29. Chapter 28 - Fulfilment

**I'll say sorry in advance for what I'm going to do here...**

* * *

Jill agreed to cover the north face of the tree, Aria in the west, and Kali in the east, while Lauren remained standing by Thalia's Pine. Peleus had stopped breathing fire as soon as she walked closer to the Fleece.

The dragon looked at her as if she had gone mad. _"What the Hades are you doing?"_ it was probably thinking. _"I'm trying to melt this damned frost and save the Camp here. Get out of my way!"_

But Lauren's gut was telling her to stay. The accumulated frost on the Fleece remained as steely as ever. She scowled.

In her hand, her mysterious, unnamed sword teemed with power. It was tugging at her arm again, wanting to fight, wanting to kill more monsters. That wasn't Lauren's primary objective. She had to find a way to melt the frost; otherwise the monsters would just keep coming, and eventually, the Camp _would_ fall. She couldn't let that happen. And for some reason, she had a feeling that melting the frost was _her_ job.

Photokinesis was a rare power, even for the children of Apollo. No camper in written history had ever been able to summon or manipulate light in any way. Only gods were known to be able to do that. Lauren looked down at her hands and thought that perhaps she could somehow do what others couldn't.

With a sliver of doubt, she brought her left hand up and placed it on the Fleece. The ice bit at her skin, but she did her best to ignore it. She focused purely on summoning heat or light—anything, really—into her hands. Hoped for nothing short of a miracle.

Nothing happened.

She huffed. Maybe her luck had run out after all.

And then suddenly she remembered something.

"Jill?" she called over her shoulder, the panic rising in her chest.

"Yeah?" Jill replied after a beat, distracted.

"Where is the boy Ethan?"

"Not sure." She was interrupted by the sharp clang of blades. "Last I checked, Chiron had put Annabeth on bodyguard duty."

Some of the panic ebbed. If Lauren had to make a list of the people she could completely trust with Ethan's life, Annabeth would be in it without a doubt. She was strong, gritty, tactful and intelligent. And she would have been part of Artemis' ranks, if Percy Jackson hadn't gotten to her heart first. A stubborn boy, but he had proved himself to the gods countless times. It was enough for Lauren to form a grudging sort of respect for him.

The sword in her hand resumed pulling in a more persistent manner. Curious, and perhaps even slightly irked, Lauren allowed it to jerk her arm forward. Surprisingly, it settled on the Fleece, the blade touching the magical, golden hide. For the second time that day, warmth travelled down her arm and into the sword.

As soon as this happened, flakes of ice started peeling away from the Fleece. She grinned in delight. Beside her, Peleus roared, before lumbering down the knoll and into camp to help with the fighting.

"The ice is melting," she yelled.

"Thank the gods!" Kali said from the other side of the tree, smiling brightly even as she fought with an _empousa_. "Keep doing what you're doing, cap'n!" Her poor impression of a pirate sent a light chuckle up Lauren's throat.

As if responding to her glee, a new wave of heat rushed into the blade, resulting in one-fourth of the frost melting off the Fleece. It was slow but sure work. She could stay as she was until all the ice was gone. She had her Hunters guarding her back, anyway. Everything seemed to be going right, for once.

And then it didn't.

Lauren watched as Kali switched positions with the _empousa_ , so that she was facing the camp and away from the forest. She watched as she continued fighting even as the sound of an arrow whistling through the air reached her ears.

Unable to do anything, Lauren watched as an arrow shaft emerged from Kali's shoulder.

Kali's body stilled. Her chest heaved. From afar, Lauren could see the tremors racking through her. Death quakes. And then Kali brandished her sword, parrying the _empousa_ 's blow, and then thrust it into the monster's stomach. Just as the _empousa_ was disintegrating, another arrow whistled through the air and buried itself into Kali's stomach.

Once again, the Hunter stilled. Red blossomed from her wounds and dirtied her white parka.

After a moment, she turned and met Lauren's eyes. And Lauren could do nothing but watch as another arrow sprouted from her chest. Her body shook one last time before she collapsed onto the ground.

A scream pierced the air. Lauren couldn't be sure whether it was hers. Her body felt cold. All the years of watching Kali's pointless shenanigans, hearing her light peals of laughter, was brought forth in her mind.

That girl she knew was gone now. Lifeless and lying on the ground. Killed by precisely three arrows.

Below, things had gotten worse. The remaining Laistrygonians had reached the climbing wall and were now chucking half-solid balls of lava at the camp's structures. Lauren watched as Iron Man flew by one giant and shot an energy blast right at its face.

The Laistrygonian curled its fingers around a lava ball and hurled it at Stark with such force that he didn't even have time to completely evade it. The sarsen caught his shoulder and he fell out of the sky.

The rabid sounds of wolves caught Lauren's attention. Feeling numb, she craned her neck and saw an entire pack of the beasts racing up the hill. Aria's face was streaked with tears and contorted in rage as she shot the wolves down one by one, but there were too many of them.

They reached her before she could eradicate them. They pinned her to the ground and tore at her before Lauren's eyes.

Aria's screams continued for several seconds before it cut off with a wet, gurgling sound.

Horror washed over Lauren. Her arm shook so badly that the tremors travelled down the sword in her hand as well. The heat in her slowly disappeared. Coldness overtook her veins. Yet somehow, her sword kept on, droning as it tried to subdue the ice that was gradually coating the Fleece once more.

"Fall back!" Chiron bellowed from the foot of the hill. Campers started running past him, including Jason and Piper. Barton trailed behind, shooting down strays with his arrows. Lauren could see that his quiver was almost empty.

Chiron continued waving his arms to whoever was still in the woods. "Everyone, fall back! To camp! Fall back!"

Several more demigods, and a few Hunters, sprinted past him to seek refuge in the camp. Jason trailed behind them, running for all he was worth. Lauren didn't see Jill among their ranks.

The trees rustled. Among the thin branches, Lauren could just make out the heads of several more Laistrygonian Giants. But apart from their heavy footfalls, there was the slithering of more _dracaenae_ , the barks of more wolves, and more barely human footsteps of _empousai_.

Lauren hadn't expected a man to emerge from the forest.

He resembled Thor in many ways. As the haze disappeared from her eyes, Lauren noticed that his hair was considerably shorter than Thor's—cropped and spiked. His frame was sturdy and wide, and he had the beginnings of stubble on his jaw.

He wore a pair of regular brown trousers, his feet covered by riding boots. A dark blue tunic travelled until his upper thighs. A fur cloak hung around his wide-set shoulders, and a round shield was strapped onto his back.

In one hand, he held a broadsword. In the other, he held nothing. For it was a stump of skin not capable of keeping anything aloft.

His minions followed behind him. Lauren's heart dropped when she saw one Laistrygonian Giant carrying Jill by her hair.

Jill yelled and thrashed, but the giant wouldn't let go.

"Jill?" Lauren whispered. Her stomach lurched.

Jill's eyes found hers and her thrashing renewed. "LAUREN! HELP!"

Lauren stared on helplessly. She couldn't let go of her sword; the frost needed to thaw off of the Fleece. Not able to think of anything else, she used her free hand to throw an arrow towards the giant that had Jill. The shaft buried itself into its shoulder, but that didn't faze it in the slightest.

The man—the one leading the attack—looked at Lauren with a malicious smile inching up his face. He gestured to the ground in front of him.

With a wordless grunt, the Laistrygonian threw Jill onto the ground. She immediately curled and pulled a knife from the confines of her boot. She scrambled to her feet and quickly killed the closest _dracaena_ , followed by another, and then another.

Such valiance couldn't be taught. Not even by Artemis.

Jill had just dispatched with a particularly noisy _empousa_ before the man stepped in. He backhanded her with such force that she flew to the side of the knoll, where she landed on her back. The man walked up to her with wide strides.

Before she could even raise her arm, he had run her through with his sword.

The first tear fell. Lauren sobbed. It all became too much for her; the sword fell from her hand and ice covered the Fleece once more. Any willpower she had left disappeared as the life went out of Jill's body.

The man pulled his sword out of Jill's stomach with a disgusting squelch and wiped the blade on his coat.

"I am Tyr, here to deliver news from Khione and the general of the Jotunn army, Andleut Laufeyson," he said, and his voice echoed all throughout the vicinity, as loud as if he was speaking through a megaphone. "Stand down now and we will spare your lives until Orion comes to reap his vengeance; fight us and you all will die an early death." He looked directly at Lauren and the echoing quality in his voice disappeared. "And what a waste that would be."

Rage filled her.

She leaned down and picked up her sword again—and that singular emotion made the blade start humming with power again. She began walking down the hill with a single objective in mind: kill Tyr. But with a single sentence, he shattered her resolve once more:

"If you attack me, I will kill everyone else that you care about and make you watch as they scream."

She knew that he could very well do just that. With the help of Khione and the Frost Giants, it could be as easy as raising a hand. If she hadn't been so sure about that, she wouldn't have dropped her sword arm to her side, letting it hang limp.

The fight left her body.

Not knowing what else to do, she just turned around and strode down the hill and into the camp.

Her thoughts went to the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents still in the jet; to Tony, whose suit had gotten damaged; to Romanoff, who had been fighting monsters with only bullets; to Barton, who she had learned to trust so deeply that it frightened her.

Agent Hill had said that the rest of the Avengers were on their way, and maybe even they could help with defeating Tyr—and that was a big _maybe_. But where were they?

The entire camp had heard Tyr's declaration. When Lauren had gotten away from the one-handed god, everyone was gathered by the front of the Big House. So many of them had fallen… Lauren felt like crying, but she knew that she had to keep her game face on.

"Lauren!"

It was a voice she didn't immediately recognize, for she hadn't heard it in a while, but there was no doubt about who it was.

Ethan stepped out of the crowd of demigods and very quickly made his way towards her. Behind him were Annabeth and Percy, and then Agent Barton.

Lauren hadn't been expecting the bear hug Ethan attacked her with. He was stronger and heavier than she last remembered. After allowing a few moments of the contact, she pushed him away. It wasn't the time.

"So it really was Tyr," said Annabeth. "He let Khione onto Jotunheim."

Lauren shook her head grimly. "It doesn't matter now."

"We can still keep fighting," Ethan argued.

"He's right," Percy agreed. "The camp's dealt with worse."

"Not like this," said Lauren. "Not right now."

A look of understanding flashed across Percy's face. It was quickly replaced with hostility when he raised his eyes to the top of Half-Blood Hill. There, Tyr stood with his new wave of enemies.

Lauren felt a chilly silence settle over the camp. Someone came to stand beside her. At first, she thought it was Ethan, and then she came to realize that it was Barton. His presence offered her little comfort.

"I'm sure you're all wondering why I'm here today," Tyr said, looking down at them like they were some new specimens he had just discovered under a rock. "But I can tell you right now that I've never been very far. Hiding, yes, but quite in plain sight. Your mortal agencies didn't know what they were looking for." He grinned. "I have been the one organizing the attacks on your precious camp—I am the author of all your pain. With a little help from Khione, of course. But that still doesn't answer the question as to why I'm here, does it?"

Leisurely, he walked down the knoll. His minions formed a line at the top, blocking out any escape. Lauren glared at each of their smug faces. She wanted nothing more than to put an end to this hostage situation of theirs, but that would lead to the deaths of more demigods, more Hunters. She didn't think she could take any more burden on her shoulders.

"By now, I suppose you've all heard of the prophecies. Two spoken at the same day—quite a rarity, is it not?" said Tyr. "The first spoke of the return of Orion… while the other spoke of a quest for the Traust sword."

Lauren stiffened up. Her hand unconsciously clenched around the mystery sword's hilt. Now she knew what it was called. But now, she also knew that it bearing the symbol of Mjolnir wasn't a coincidence. It was special to the Norse—perhaps as special as Thor's hammer itself.

"And last night, Khione informed me that the _Sporodreki_ , the defender of the Traust, had been killed. And the sword stolen…" He sneered and looked right at Lauren. "By a Hunter of Artemis."

She couldn't help the scowl that darkened her face. She wanted to kill him so badly.

"And I know for a fact that that Hunter is here, alive," Tyr continued. "So either she comes forward and gives the sword to me willingly, or I kill everyone here. Starting with the youngest."

Lauren very much believed that he would do that. From the Norse stories she remembered, none of the gods were very merciful. Not even Thor.

Still, she grasped onto the last shred of courage that she had left, and stared back at Tyr with the most of murderous look she could muster. " _You can go to Hades._ "

He clucked his tongue. "Such colorful words for a young woman. You don't believe me? Perhaps I have to convince you."

Without warning, he plucked Ethan—who had been standing close behind her, clutching her shirt—and dragged him to his side.

"No!" Annabeth yelled as she tried to pull him back, but Tyr easily got him away from her reach.

He placed the stump of his wrist beneath Ethan's chin. "This one looks young," he said. "And if Khione had described him properly, this is the one that Artemis wants protected."

The look of pure terror on Ethan's face made Lauren feel uneasy, because she imagined she looked quite the same. It reminded her of just how inexperienced he was, how short a time he had spent in the Camp compared to others.

He was nodding his head. "Just give it to him," he said. "Lauren, just give it to him. I can't—I… I'm scared. Please, Lauren—"

"You're bluffing," Lauren said to Tyr.

He grinned. "Am I really?"

"I can see it on your face. You're—"

Tyr pushed Ethan's chin up with his stump of a hand. Then, he brought his sword up and slit an even line across Ethan's throat.


	30. Chapter 29 - Conditions

_Because a reader threatened to slowly and brutally kill me if I didn't update ASAP, here's the next chapter. HAHAHAHA. It's all in good fun though, and I really am guilty for what I did in that last chapter. Well, guilty not guilty._

 _Not sure if the last part of this chapter is a cliff-hanger, but I hope it isn't. I really tried HAHAHA._

 _HUGE HUGE HUUUGE shoutouts to 100th Century again, and to Anonymous (you know who you are) who have boosted the reviews of this story. Really, thank ya'll so much!_

 _I'M WAAAAAY UPP, I FEEL BLESSED-oh wait._

* * *

The initial shock lasted for what felt like hours. Complete stillness settled over the camp. Lauren's ears were ringing. If she hadn't even been able to protect her Hunters, how had she expected herself to be able to protect Ethan?

She stared down at Ethan's lifeless body. Blood streamed from the front of his neck and to the ground, pooling beneath him and soaking into his clothes. Camper clothes. The sight of his orange shirt splattered with red made her nauseous. She had seen such a sight many times. Too many times.

Now Tyr promised that he was going to make her look at it again. She didn't know how many more deaths she could take before she just went mad. Everything that had happened was her fault, after all. If she hadn't accepted the Quest—if she had let someone else accept it, someone more capable—everything would be different.

But she still had the chance not to let Ethan's death—and Jill's, and Aria's, and Kali's—be for naught. She could still make the right call.

With shaky hands, she walked forward until she was standing in front of Tyr. She ignored the protests coming from behind her and was moving to place the sword by Tyr's feet, when someone grabbed her arm. She turned and found Barton staring at her with the most imploring gaze she had ever seen worn on him.

"Don't give in to what he wants," he said, "To what _Orion_ wants."

"He's right," Romanoff added. "He'll kill us all whatever you do."

Lauren sighed. "You think I don't know that?"

"Do you?" said Barton. "Just, stop and think about it for a minute. It isn't what Jill would want—"

"You _do not_ know what she would want. You never knew her!" Lauren snapped. "Trust me to do the right thing."

Even when she said that, a look of doubt still flashed across his face. But after a moment, he nodded. "Alright."

As Lauren steeled herself to part with the Traust sword, the blade's thrumming intensified. Her hand felt somewhat glued to the hilt. When she completely removed her fingers, it hurt. But the sword was no longer in her hands or on her body, and it felt… odd. Which was a mystery in itself because she had barely spent a day with it in her keeping.

Tyr stepped forward and knelt down to pick up the sword, and Lauren watched with what felt like a guilty conscience. He wrapped his fingers around the hilt and pulled.

And the sword stayed.

Lauren stared as the god kept trying to get it off the ground; veins protruded from the skin on his neck because of the exertion. The campers resided in a stunned silence.

"No doubt about it now," Barton muttered. "That thing's made of the same stuff as Thor's hammer."

"But you were able to lift it too, as well as me. And I am quite sure that neither of us are worthy." Lauren glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "No offense."

"None taken."

Tyr was losing his patience. "This is a _pretense_ ," he hissed. "Junior, get over here!"

One of the Laistrygonian Giants stepped down from the top of Half-Blood Hill and lumbered towards him. Lauren stared at the club in his hand, the spikes of which were covered in gore. She wondered how many deaths it had caused in its lifetime.

Junior put his thumb and forefinger on the hilt of the sword and pulled. He kept pulling until his eyes were practically bulging out of his head and his feet were digging into the ground for some leverage. In the end, his fingers slipped, he fell back and landed on his back with a loud thud, very nearly flattening a group of demigods in the process.

Lauren caught Chiron staring down at the dazed giant with a small smirk; his eyes flitted to the Traust sword. It occurred to Lauren just how remarkable the sword's magic had to be—as well as Mjolnir's—if not even the physically strongest of beings could lift it. Perhaps even Ares couldn't lift it.

Tyr looked very unhappy. He was quiet for a long while, nose flaring as he took deep breaths. Eventually, he shook his head. A humorless smile inched up his face.

"Dwarves are such fickle creatures, building weapons such as this. Useless," he said. "What if no one worthy enough comes along to claim it? It would rot. Alas, I know one such demigod who is worthy enough." He nodded to Lauren. "Pick it up."

When she didn't move, only glared at him, he snarled. "My threat still stands. Pick it up or I'll—"

"Kill everyone here," she finished.

Grudgingly, she stepped forward, ignoring the hisses of protest coming from Romanoff. She picked the Traust sword up as easily as she would a feather. Power immediately surged into her veins. She felt stronger, but still very helpless. Fight Tyr and have everyone die, or wait for the right time and save everyone… at least until Orion came. She had already come to a decision, but the weight of it felt like a rock in her stomach.

Tyr nodded, appearing satisfied. "Considering the nature of our situation, I've decided that you will return with us to our camp."

Objections erupted behind her. Mostly women's—her Hunters'. Annabeth was outraged, Chiron looked on pleadingly, while Clint wore such a passive look on his face that it was impossible for Lauren to read what he was thinking. But one thing was certain. He trusted her to make the right call, and he didn't seem too happy about having to do so.

Lauren frowned. "And fight for you?" she said, to which Tyr nodded. That meant that she would be on their side during the war, killing _their_ enemies, not hers. She would have to kill fellow demigods.

But perhaps she could make a way so she wouldn't have to.

"I will come with you," she stated. The Hunters went quiet, betrayed. "But I have my conditions as well."

"This isn't a negotiation," said Tyr.

"That will have to change if you really want me to fight for you."

His smile disappeared. The angry crease on his forehead deepened. "Name your conditions and we shall see."

Lauren took a deep breath. Trying to calm herself and properly gather her thoughts, she turned and took in the faces surrounding her. All the Hunters she had left behind for the Quest, Chiron, Jason, Piper, Barton, Annabeth, Percy—all these people who had gone through such hardships, so much sacrifice, all to keep the world from falling to chaos. Lauren knew that it was her turn.

She faced Tyr once more. "The Camp will be spared from the attack."

"Unfortunately, no one will be spared from the attack." He shook his head. "Perhaps something else, dear."

His words sent a shiver down her spine. After hearing this, no doubt Percy would already be formulating a plan on how they were going to protect the mortals from the war. Even so, Lauren didn't hesitate to put forth another ultimatum.

"Tell Khione to stop terrorizing those who work against her," she said. " _All_ of them. At least… at least until the nine nights have finished. Give us a chance to recuperate."

"… I suppose she wouldn't want a _too_ easy victory," Tyr muttered. "Excuse me."

He turned away from her, ducked his head, and began murmuring to himself. Lauren was all too familiar with the sight, having seen Artemis do so many times before. He was speaking with Khione.

Seizing her chance, she turned and said to Chiron, "Please tell me that you have found Nico's godly counterpart."

"He's working on it," said the centaur. "Lauren, what are you doing?"

"The plan remains the same. The children of the Big Three will be brought to Asgard. I imagine that Tyr will be the one leading the attack there. Khione—"

"Leo's got that covered," Jason suddenly interrupted. "He'll heat things up so bad, she won't remember what cold _feels_ like."

Lauren grimaced, recalling how the scorpion's acid felt like on her skin.

"Orion is mine," she hissed. "He will be near invincible—with the Curse of Achilles and the knowledge of the World Tree in his hands. I am the only one who has a chance against him."

Up until that point, the major points of her plan had been running around and around in her head like spokes on a wheel. But she had forgotten something. "I need a way to contact Nico… _Di immortales_ , I need his help—"

Someone cleared his throat behind her. Lauren turned to find Tyr watching them with a malicious glint in his eyes. "Not planning my demise already, are you?"

"I wouldn't dream of it," she muttered. "And what did Khione say?"

"With a little extra convincing from me, she agreed. See? I don't hate demigods as much as you think."

Lauren begged to differ—he and his minions had killed so many—but she managed to hold her tongue. Instead, she said, "Swear on the River Styx that you are not lying."

"You don't trust me?" He clucked his tongue. "Alright. I swear on the River Styx that Khione will stop terrorizing those who fight to oppose her, me, Orion, or Andleut—"

"And that you and anyone who works with you will do the same."

"Smart girl." He narrowed his eyes. "I swear on the River Styx that neither I, Khione, Orion, or _any_ of our accomplices will do any damage to those who oppose our cause… until the ninth night, that is, by which time, we shall be free to attack on sight."

Lauren supposed that she had that coming for her. Tyr wasn't completely daft, after all. Weary, she nodded and shrugged her shoulders as she sighed. "Are we going to your camp or not?"

"You indulge me with your excitement. But yes, we'll be going."

"Just… let me say my goodbyes."

She could have sworn that she saw him roll his eyes. "Make it quick. I have to plan with Khione and the Jotunn about the eradication of you demigods and all that jazz."

With an aching heart, she walked to where Jill's lifeless body laid on the ground. She gently placed her fingertips on the girl's eyelids, pulling them down, before she retrieved the Hunter's calling horn from her belt loop. Her chest constricted, but she refused to show Tyr any more weakness.

She approached Chiron first and handed him the horn. Because he was in his centaur form, he towered over her, which was why he had to stoop down a bit in order to give her a hug. Lauren was surprised with the gesture, but before she could return it, he had already pulled away.

"You are a fighter, Lauren," he said. "Fight for what is right. Don't forget the face of the true enemy."

"Never," she whispered in reply, glancing at Barton.

To her own hidden astonishment, Agent Romanoff approached her next and wrapped her arms around her. Lauren was getting all manners of affection today from the most unlikely of people. She knew she didn't deserve any of it. But as was only expected, Romanoff had an ulterior motive.

When she pulled away, Lauren felt the agent press something into the pocket of her jeans, the movement so subtle that she barely noticed it. "The twin is with me. I'll keep him safe… It's what Nico would want."

Lauren caught the confused looks that several campers were sending their way, but she was able to understand Romanoff's meaning, somehow. She nodded. "Thank you."

When Romanoff stepped away, Barton moved forward. Lauren crossed her arms, signaling to him that she'd had enough hugs for the day. A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. He placed his hand on her shoulder and looked at her with earnest eyes.

"I trust you," he said.

"And I you," she replied. Just then, a spoke in her plan spun to the top of the wheel. Despite her earlier reluctance, she enveloped Barton in a tight embrace and then whispered near his ear: "Meet me at Central Park tomorrow. Make sure no one follows you."

When she moved away, his expression was unreadable. He only nodded. Lauren returned the gesture before finally turning her attention to the Hunters. Their eyes were cold as they stared at her, and she couldn't blame them.

Somehow, she managed to speak: "The deaths of our sisters will not be in vain. I promise."

She wished to say more—so much more—but Tyr cleared his throat again. He was holding his arm out to her.

As she felt her heart tearing from the inside out, she couldn't do anything else but place her hand on the crook of Tyr's arm. She looked at the campers one last time, at Barton, at Chiron. And then the ground fell away beneath her, and Camp Half-Blood disappeared in a swirl of mist.

* * *

They appeared in an alleyway unevenly paved with dark stones. The walls were formed out of red bricks. There weren't any windows, which was odd, because they were undoubtedly the sides of a building, but there were slight depressions. It all looked quite vintage, in Lauren's eyes.

The end of the alley opened up to a wide piazza, where people bustled about in thick coats and snowcaps. At the other side of the square, a sign hung from a two-story building that read "Blues and Bourbon Bar", confirming Lauren's suspicions as to exactly where they were.

"What does New Orleans have to do with your plans?" she asked. "Did you have an argument with the Creole that still has not been resolved?"

Tyr glanced at her and placed a hand over his chest in mock offense. "Is it so bad for me to want a bowl of gumbo every now and again? Creoles do know how to spice them up perfectly, after all."

"I am not in the mood for your lies," she hissed. "Why are we really here?"

"Wasn't lying. I'm craving for that flawless bowl of shellfish and tomatoes. Also…" He sighed and looked at her. "I thought you'd want to see the attraction of Louisiana. The Big Easy should be one of the wonders of the world, in my opinion."

"Why would you want me to see New Orleans?"

He shrugged. "You'll thank me two days from now. When this is all over, this place will look worse than Hurricane Katrina."

Lauren looked at him in exasperation.

"Too far?" he said. "Sorry. What I mean to say is: tomorrow night is the final night of anything even relatively close to peace. So, I suggest you have some fun while you can, and see the world as it is before Khione and the Frost Giants envelope it in ice and blood."

"You seem nostalgic for someone who helped her plot everything out," she said. It was odd that he would even come close to caring about her view of things.

He laughed, sounding so dangerous in every way. It sent a rush of fear into her heart.

"Don't get me wrong, Hunter. I crave for the downfall of the gods—be it Norse or Greek—as much as Orion does. I'm just saying, enjoy it while you can."

With that, he promptly walked out of the alleyway and into the throng of people. His goons trailed after him like dogs to their master. None of the mortals paid them any mind; just let them pass as they would to anyone else, although, some of them stared at the Laistrygonians. Lauren supposed it made sense since they were still impossibly large, even through the Mist.

She made to follow Tyr out of the alley when she was reminded of the Traust sword in her hand.

It thrummed in a steady rhythm, like how a cat purred. She looked down at it with uncertainty. The people here wouldn't take too kindly to seeing her holding a stick as large as it was. They would think she was some kind of _bokor_ or something.

First, she had to make a scabbard. Artemis had taught her long ago how to make one out of the simplest of tools, though she would need leather for a sword as sharp as the Traust. Making the scabbard itself wasn't very hard, though it would take time and patience.

 _Leather,_ Lauren thought. There was sure to be a shop or two down the street that sold leather. She was in Louisiana, after all. Maybe she'd even be lucky enough to find alligator hide.

It was several minutes later that, no sooner had she passed by a hunting shop with a roll of alligator skin placed behind the glass display, did she realize that she had absolutely no money. None at all. She could feel a few drachmas clinking together in her pants pocket, but Creoles wouldn't accept that kind of currency.

 _Alligator skin: $15 per foot,_ the display case read. When she had first seen the hide, she had planned on buying the whole thing. It had to be at least seven feet. _$105,_ she mused, already having done the math in her head. Where was she going to get that big of a sum? From Tyr? She had no idea where he'd gone.

Trying to look as casual as possible, she walked into the shop. A bell chimed upon her entry, signaling the shopkeeper of her presence. She cursed inwardly.

"What'd ya like to buy today, pretty miss?" said the shopkeeper.

"I was just looking around," she replied, not meeting his eyes.

He nodded, and then his gaze fell to her neck. The flirty sparkle disappeared from his eyes. Lauren resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

The bell chimed again as another young woman stepped into the shop—a native, this time. The shopkeeper went to her immediately, and Lauren would have made an effort to save the woman if she wasn't obviously delighted by the man's attentions.

Lauren looked away and approached the right wall of the shop, where there was a variety of tapes and pastes. She took a roll of duct tape and slipped it onto her wrist; then she took a tube of glue and _ever so subtly_ placed it into her jeans pocket. It was small enough not to form a bulge.

She glanced over her shoulder. The shopkeeper was still fully invested with the young Creole woman. A CCTV camera had been placed at the far wall corner. It was pointed right at Lauren. Hopefully, her position and the subtlety of her movements were enough.

Now, how was she going to steal that alligator hide?

* * *

 _P.S. To Anonymous:_

 _Yes, I have been getting your reviews! But do keep them coming. I love reading your reactions. x'D_

 _P.S.S. To whom it may concern:_

 _I've been obsessed with this song "This is the Thing" by Fink. It's this really slow but profound song, and I recommend that you give it a listen. I hope you'll like it as much as I do!_


	31. Chapter 30 - Covert Connections

**Sorry for the delay ya'll! School's been a bitch, and I've been stressing about this project we have in English called Pose Like A God. I can't find a costume!**

 **SONG RECOMMENDATION OF THE WEEK: Joy - Ellie Goulding**

 **Enjoy the chapter, and the song! :D**

* * *

With a satisfied air about her, Lauren walked around the outskirts of city until she came across an abandoned warehouse.

Fauna had grown on nearly every surface—from corroded pieces of metal to empty wooden boxes. Lauren did a hasty scan of the perimeter to make sure that there were no homeless people lurking about before finally settling down.

She placed her bow and quiver of arrows on the nearest crate, as well as the roll of duct tape on her forearm. The wood creaked under the weight, but it held. Then, Lauren placed the stolen alligator hide on the ground and looked down at it in pride. Barton had indeed rubbed off on her.

Normally she wouldn't so lightly consider becoming a thief—as she had cursed the act of thievery many times before—but she was desperate. (She couldn't walk around with an unsheathed sword; monsters would easily see her, and there was still the chance that she'd come across another stray demigod. She could accidentally run them through.)

She hadn't particularly liked the shopkeeper either. Stealing something that cost so much from his shop had been the perfect chance to humble him.

A major part of the warehouse's roof had remained, so there wasn't much snow on the ground where Lauren stood. She placed the Traust sword on top of the hide as means of measurement, and was relieved to find that the seven feet of skin would be enough to accommodate the two sides of the scabbard. She could only hope that the super glue and duct tape would be enough to hold the entire thing together.

Sitting cross-legged on the ground, she tore off a small splinter of wood from the crate and traced the outline of the sword onto one half of the alligator hide. She did the same with the other half. And on the extra space, she fashioned a belt loop that she would attach to the scabbard when it was finished, and a spacer so the sheath wouldn't be too tight.

Once she was satisfied that all the parts were perfect, she lifted the sword into her hand and held it as if she was going to stab somebody. Placing the tip of it a few millimeters apart from the sword's outline on the hide, she got to cutting it out.

Her every movement was careful and precise; she was aware that anything she did couldn't be undone, and she didn't want to have to steal again.

It took nearly an hour for her to finish cutting out both of the sides of the scabbard. When she finished, her hand was cramping up and her shoulders ached. She allowed herself a moment of respite from the carving, leaning back on the crate and stretching her shoulders and legs.

Upon placing her hands on her lap, she felt the objects that were in her pocket. She pulled out the paste she had stolen first, and then a stray drachma, and then she felt something entirely foreign to her.

Foreign, and yet she knew exactly what it was.

She pulled out a tiny black device that looked suspiciously like it could fit in her ear. Curious, she pushed it into her ear. It fit perfectly. An earpiece, then. Agent Romanoff had given her an earpiece.

Hours before, she'd hinted that she would give the "twin" to Nico. So far, there had been nothing from the other side. Lauren picked it up and examined it for a bit before pressing the button on its underside and speaking into it.

"Hello?" she said. "Is anybody there? It's Lauren speaking."

There was no reply, just static.

Feeling quite foolish, Lauren returned the earpiece to her pocket and resolved to continue with her work on the scabbard. Deciding against designing it, she proceeded to put all the pieces of the scabbard together.

She glued the spacer onto the inside of one side of the scabbard, and then glued the other side of the scabbard onto the spacer. She held them together for a minute or two before bringing it up to her face and looking into it. The hollow looked good enough.

The belt loop was attached next, at the top part of the scabbard. She finished up by covering the sides, as well as the lower part of the belt loop, in duct tape. This way, she could be sure that it wouldn't fall apart the moment she pulled the sword out.

The blade fit perfectly into the hollow of the scabbard, but pulling it out wasn't as smooth as it would have been with an iron sheath. Looking at it, Lauren knew that it was the best she could have done given the circumstances. No doubt, it was a poor substitution for the sheaths Chiron could have provided back at camp, but it would be enough. It had to be.

With a sigh, she stood and tied the belt loop into one of the hoops on her jeans. The sword dangled by her left hip; at least she wouldn't have to constantly lug it around anymore.

Lauren looked up and found that the sun was setting low in the horizon. Soon, night would fall. She had to remind herself that she didn't have to worry about whether it was day or night for a while, considering Khione had agreed to halt all her attacks on demigods until the following night. Yet Lauren still had to return to The Quarter and look for Tyr, and that was as much of a hassle as fighting monsters was.

She slung her bow and quiver onto her back, and looked to the exit. "Oh Barton," she muttered. "If you could see me now."

A crackling noise caught her attention.

Her hand flew to the handle of the of the Traust sword. Lauren was fully prepared to pull it out and confront any foe that would come near, and she was just about to, when she realized that the crackling noise was coming from _her_. Or, more specifically, her pocket.

Wide-eyed, she pulled out Romanoff's earpiece and pressed the button. "Hello?"

 _"… gods, this is getting annoying. Fat lot of good this thing is doing."_

 _"Maybe there's no signal?"_

 _"Maybe Lauren dropped it."_

 _"Oh for the love of—HELLO, DOES ANYONE COPY?"_

Lauren would know those voices from anywhere. "Jackson, Di Angelo!" And Leo Valdez, but Lauren would talk to him some other time.

 _"Guys! Shut up, shut up…"_ There was a slight scuffling, and the static rippled before Nico spoke again. _"Lauren? Is that you?"_

"Nico, oh thank the gods they found you. Are you at camp? Is Barton there? Have the Avengers arrived?"

 _"Slow down. Just, chill for a bit, alright? Just…"_ Nico's voice got far away from the earpiece as he spoke to who Lauren assumed were Percy and Leo, and maybe even Chiron as well. He returned moments later. _"Uh yeah, the rest of the Avengers are here. They're at the Big House."_

Lauren nodded. "Have they started positioning the battle units?"

 _"They're on it right now, I think. Lauren, why did you want to talk? If it's about Hades' eldest child, I found her just last night. She's in with the plan."_

"That's good. Very good. But I wanted to talk to you about something else. Are you alone?"

 _"No, I'm in the dining pavilion."_

"Excuse yourself and go somewhere private."

He said something under his breath and went quiet for several beats. When he spoke again, he was slightly breathless. _"What's this about?"_

Nico was a very blunt demigod. It was one of the reasons why Lauren respected him, despite his heritage. So, she figured that, if she were going to tell him, it wouldn't make much of a difference whether she hesitated or not. She just went for it: "I am going to accept the Curse of Achilles."

There was a long pause. And then, he asked, _"Why?"_

"I have to," Lauren replied. "It is the only way I'll be able to get close enough to Orion, to kill him."

She said the last bit under her breath, suddenly feeling wary of her position.

 _"You have the best shot I've ever seen—"_

"Orion's bane did not come in the form of arrows. No, I have to fight him with a sword—the Traust sword, his bane—but I will not be able to do so when one blow from him can kill me. I need to be invincible."

 _"Nearly invincible."_ He sighed. _"I suppose you want me to take you to dad's realm? Tonight, maybe?"_

"Not tonight. Tomorrow. And we'll have to take Agent Barton with us too."

 _"What?"_ Nico sounded indignant. _"Why?"_

Lauren sighed in a defeated manner and made sure that he heard. "I think you of all people would know why I'm taking _him_ to the Styx with me, Nico."

The son of Hades went quiet. In a more polite tone, he said, _"I'm sensing a 'but' coming on."_

"Before we meet Barton in Central Park—which is where I told him to meet us tomorrow—you have to take me to Virginia first."

 _"Sure, I guess. But Chiron told me what happened. Where are you now?"_

"New Orleans."

He whistled. _"That's not gonna be an easy trip. Louisiana to Virginia to New York… It's possible for sure, but that's really gonna drain me. And like you said, I'm going to be part of the group that's gonna protect Asgard."_

"I would not have asked you had I known any other way," said Lauren. "Tyr will know if I try to leave the city on foot or by plane."

 _"Does he have a tracking device on you or something?"_

"No, but he's a god."

 _"Fair point."_ Nico chuckled humorlessly. _"Why do you have to stop at Virginia anyway? Maybe we can cut the trip short—"_

Lauren shook her head even though she knew Nico couldn't see her. "There's a hospital in Richmond where my mother is admitted to."

He made a noise of comprehension. _"Can't be helped, then."_

"I am sorry for asking so much of you."

 _"It's fine, it's fine. Your brother would kill me if he found out that I refused, anyway."_

She frowned. "My brother? Which one?"

Before she could pester him about it further, he changed the topic. _"What time should I tell Barton to meet us at Central Park?"_

Lauren pondered on it for a moment. "Mid afternoon," she said. "Tell him not to be late."

 _"What time will I pick you up, and where?"_

"Precisely twelve o'clock in the afternoon. There is a restaurant here in the corner of Bourbon and St. Louis." Lauren felt around in her head for the name. "Deveraux—I will be waiting inside."

 _"And what about Tyr?"_

She scowled at the thought of the self-righteous Norse god. "I will get him off my scent, one way or another. All you have to focus on is getting to Deveraux on time and getting out _with_ me."

 _"Copy that."_

There was nothing more to be said. Lauren was just about to end the conversation when the Traust sword very abruptly ceased vibrating against her hip.

Fear gripped her at that moment. But she knew that the blade was warning her of something. She brought the earpiece close to her mouth and quickly whispered, "Do not say anything. Do not speak through this earpiece again unless it is inconceivably urgent, or unless I am the one who starts the conversation. I am being watched."

With that, she tucked the device back into her pocket and threw a cool look onto her face. Just in time too, for a Laistrygonian walked in from around the corner, with a scowl on his face.

"What are you doing here?" he said. From the way he didn't immediately attack her or threaten her, Lauren discerned that he worked for Tyr.

She cast him a dispassionate glance. "I was just leaving."

He lumbered into the warehouse and poked her in the base of her back, prodding her forward as if she was some mule. Lauren whirled around and growled at him, baring her teeth. " _Don't_ touch me."

The giant grunted and glared down at her, but nevertheless stopped poking her. She exited the warehouse, aware of the giant trailing behind her. She was lucky that Laistrygonians weren't particularly mentally gifted. If an _empousa_ or a _dracaena_ had caught her, she was certain that she would have had to kill them, and that would have undoubtedly alerted Tyr that she was hiding something.

All she could do now was keep her head down and accept whatever Tyr gave her; at least, until the time came for the war.

At which point, she could stab him in the back any time she wanted.

* * *

 **NIGHT 8**

 _Lauren found herself in the forges of Camp Half-Blood, looking down at the busy sons of Hephaestus from above. Among the working demigods were Leo Valdez and, surprisingly, Calypso. They were fiddling with a hollow, circular item. Through the small gaps in the design, Lauren could vaguely make out several shard-like objects within the structure._

 _"This ought to give them some trouble," Leo said, pressing a button on the underside of the ball and then tossing it over his shoulder. It landed in a heap of devices completely identical to it. There had to have been at least ten of them. Similar mounds were littered around the forge, created by the many other children of Hephaestus._

 _Leo turned and hollered, "Johnny, how're those arrows coming along?"_

 _"Nicely enough, Valdez," a burly camper replied, nodding to a heap of arrows sitting at the end of his worktable. Lauren saw the metallic suctions at their tips, and the tiny buttons at the top of the shafts. Explosive arrows._

 _A spark of hope started within Lauren. For once, the camp seemed to be focused on offense rather than defense. But if she knew Chiron, he would want to be prepared with both._

 _"Leo, when are we gonna set up the mines?" one of the campers asked._

 _"Tomorrow night," Leo replied. "We don't want any new arrivals being blown to bits."_

 _Suddenly, the scene changed before her_

 _She was now standing before a tree the size of the Empire State building. Its roots were so massive that Lauren wondered whether they reached the core of the Earth (which was farther down than the Underworld was). Its branches stretched up, up, up, undoubtedly reaching Olympus and perhaps even beyond that._

 _Dangling from the trunk of the tree was the resurrected son of Gaea himself. Orion. Lauren seethed at the sight of him._

 _He was hanging from a spike of ice that pierced his right chest. This confused Lauren; if he had bathed in the Styx, then there was only one place where he could be pierced, his Achilles Heel. And he couldn't have been daft enough to make his chest his Achilles Heel. (Still, Lauren still made a mental note to try stabbing him there when chance permitted.)_

 _Or, perhaps there was some sort of effect that Yggdrasil had, to make anyone who came near it completely mortal._

 _Lauren stared at Orion like a cheetah eyeing its prey. The pained expression on his face and the look of pure exhaustion sparked some kind of inner darkness in her._

 _The sight of him being so utterly defenseless granted her some sense of happiness._

 _And then he and the World Tree vanished._

 _Afterwards, Lauren found herself unexpectedly looking down from the ceiling of a hospital room. On the bed sat a sickly old woman, slightly inclined so that she was half-lying and half-sitting down. Her eyes were closed. Several tubes were connected to her, and one thin one ran underneath her nostrils._

 _Any trace of youth had gone from her face, replaced by the hard lines of old age and the wrinkles of apathy. Her hair, once fiery and vivacious, was now thinning; at least half of the strands had turned gray._

 _Lauren's mother hadn't been anything close to this woman the last time she had seen her. It seemed as if it was just yesterday that she had visited her mother in this very hospital because, despite her devotion to Artemis, she still cared about her._

 _It was only now that she realized just how little time her mother had left._

 _A door opened at the end of the room and a nurse entered, holding a clipboard aloft in the crook of her arm and a pen in the other hand. She didn't say anything, just approached the old woman and checked her vital signs. As she was scribbling something down, the woman on the bed stirred and murmured something that vaguely sounded like Lauren's name._

 _The nurse smiled sympathetically and placed a hand on the woman's brow. "I don't know where your daughter is, Mary," she said. "But I'm sure she'll visit you soon."_

 _Lauren knew for a fact that the nurse very much knew that she was lying. As far as anyone knew, Lauren had been missing for 24 years. There might have been traces of her, but any search operation was sure to have ended in failure. Mary might have tried explaining to the authorities, for she knew that Lauren had joined the Hunters of Artemis—she was the first one Lauren had told._

" _My daughter joined Artemis in her Hunt." Who would have believed that?_

 _The last time Lauren had visited her mother was ten years ago. How could she not have done so again? Her heart clenched in guilt. Her mother must think so badly of her; she must think that her daughter had abandoned her._

 _After stroking Mary's forehead once more, the nurse left the room. But Mary was still awake, and she continued murmuring. Lauren came to realize that it was, indeed, her name that she was uttering._

 _Lauren… Lauren… Lauren… Lauren—_

* * *

"… _Lauren, you there?"_

At the sound of Barton's voice, Lauren's eyelids slowly fluttered open. How had he gotten into her dreams? Odd.

" _That Di Angelo kid told me that he finally reached you. Guess it stopped working again."_

Lauren's drowsiness quickly vanished upon the realization that his voice hadn't been coming from her subconscious at all. He was really speaking to her.

In one sweeping glance, she took in the hotel room Tyr had placed her in and decided that there were definitely possibilities of him watching the CCTV camera feeds.

Putting on a drowsy expression, she clumsily pulled the blankets over her head until she was sure that it covered her whole body. Then, she pulled the earpiece out from her pocket and pressed the button.

"Barton," she whispered. "Barton, it's me."

She heard the rippling of static before his voice came in again. _"Lauren!"_

"Gods, I told Nico not to use this connection again unless I was the one who called," she snapped, irked.

" _Couldn't help myself. I figured that everyone else would be asleep by now and that you'd be open to calls. Anyway, should I apologize?"_

She couldn't fathom why he'd even ask that. _Of course he should apologize._ If Tyr or any one of his accomplices had been in the room, her cover would have been blown. Still, she knew that it wasn't the time to argue. "Forget about it," she said dismissively.

" _Nico told me about your plan to take a dip in the Styx."_

"Good."

" _He also told me that it's dangerous as all hell and that you could die with one wrong move."_

Lauren shrugged. "Well, he isn't wrong."

" _And you still want to go on with it?"_

"If it means getting to kill Orion, then yes."

She heard Barton sigh on the other end. _"Fury won't be too happy when I tell him that you could potentially die. Rogers would want to stop you."_

"This is war, Agent Barton. People die in war. I will not be any different, nor will you, nor will Fury, nor will Captain Rogers."

Silence reigned between them for the better part of a minute. Lauren was sure that the connection had stopped working again, when Barton spoke again: _"Get some sleep, Lauren."_

Lauren made a noise of affirmation but said nothing. She thought against putting the earpiece in her pocket or beneath her pillow, where Tyr could easily find it if he decided to search her. So she tucked the device into her ear, sensing that it was small enough not to be seen so easily. Otherwise, why would S.H.I.E.L.D. give them to their best covert assassin?

Her thoughts drifted to her mother lying in that hospital room in Richmond.

 _Wait for me,_ she thought, almost prayed.

With her mind filled with childhood memories—where her mother was still lively and Lauren was still oblivious to the world of monsters—she fell into a restless slumber.

* * *

 **1\. Why do you think Lauren wants Clint to be there with her when she accepts the Curse of Achilles?**

 **2\. Which of Lauren's half-brothers do you think Nico was talking about?**

 **[wink wink]**


	32. Chapter 31 - Sanction

**Classes were suspended today, so I thought I'd put up a chapter for ya'll. Not much action in this one, but I assure you that it's all building up to something which will hopefully NOT be too big of a mess.**

* * *

Tyr wasn't as careless as Lauren hoped he would be.

As soon as she stepped out of her hotel room the following morning, she found two _empousai_ stationed at her door. When she stared at them in confusion and indignation, one of them nodded to the door across the hall, where a note was stuck. Lauren took the piece of paper and read the infuriatingly perfect handwriting in anger:

 _Sorry I couldn't stay for breakfast. I have business with the Jotunns. I left you with Sage and Bekah though. They'll be your bodyguards whenever I can't be with you. I hope you don't mind. It's nothing personal, just precautionary measures—you know, since you're sort of my prisoner of war. Can't have you escaping and running back to your friends, can I?_

 _P.S. We're leaving New Orleans tonight. Make sure you're ready and in your room. -Tyr_

Lauren seethed at his casual manner of writing. As if they were close, as if they were _friends_. She would rather die than form a bond with him. And the fact that he had called her "his" prisoner of war! If her memory served her—which it did—she had come willingly.

 _No matter,_ Lauren thought with a scowl. _He won't be so smug when my sword's buried in his gut._

"You are my bodyguards, then?" she said to the two _empousai_ , wondering which of them was Sage and which was Bekah; at the same time, she didn't really care.

They nodded an affirmative.

"Tell me, where do they make the best gumbo in New Orleans?"

"Tyr thought you would ask that," one of them said—Lauren decided to call her Bekah.

"We will take you to where he usually eats," the other said, who Lauren decided to call Sage.

She gestured to the open hallway before them. "Lead the way."

They took to walking—or rather, _limping_ —in front of her. Lauren eyed their legs with disdain.

When they passed by the hotel clerk's desk, Lauren raised her eyes to the clock hanging from the wall. It was around 11 o'clock. That wasn't much time to eat breakfast _and_ get rid of her bodyguards before Nico arrived.

But she also knew that Nico would wait for her. He wasn't the one who had monsters watching his every move, although, it would still be risky for him. Lauren resolved to meet with him as soon as possible.

The streets of New Orleans were not suitable for cars. People were always walking here. And as they walked, Lauren caught the many looks the men were giving Sage and Bekah—looks of wonder and desire—while the looks they threw _her_ were of perplexity. Probably because of the sword at her hip and the archery set slung over her shoulder… and the scar, in full display, on her neck.

She couldn't care less about what they thought of her. And they could try approaching either Sage or Bekah; she would enjoy watching the _empousai_ toy with them. As much as she hated monsters, she also disliked boys.

Eventually, Lauren noticed that she and the _empousai_ were walking on St. Louis Street. And when the two monsters didn't stop walking until they reached the sign that pointed to Bourbon Street, she couldn't believe her luck.

Sage walked into a bustling restaurant. Above the entrance, there was a sign that read, _Deveraux_. Lauren watched with astonishment as Bekah followed after Sage, nothing suspicious about their movements.

It was too good to be true.

But it was also too early for Nico to be there. Lauren could stay in the restaurant for an hour or so and it wouldn't be suspicious, yet staying longer than that would no doubt spur the impatience of the _empousai_. An hour would be enough, Lauren decided. It had to be.

Deveraux was buzzing with activity. Customers either sat in square wooden tables or on the bar. Waitresses came and went to scribble down orders or to deliver trays of food. The atmosphere in the room smelled strongly of bell pepper, onions, cooking meat, and Southern spices.

Lauren's mouth started watering. She hadn't eaten since her and Barton's breakfast with Joe and Beth in their house at Crete. It had been a hearty meal, but the smells wafting into Lauren's senses were too delicious to deny for long.

A strong-jawed, blond waitress approached them and flashed a brilliant smile. "Table for three?" she asked, carrying no Southern accent at all.

"Yes please," Lauren replied a little reluctantly. She didn't want to sit and eat while Sage and Bekah watched her like hawks. She thought they were ugly enough; having a constant eyeful of them would surely make her lose her appetite. But Sage looked at her with narrowed eyes and Lauren knew that she couldn't tell the waitress otherwise.

"I'm Cami," said the waitress as she led them to a quaint little table by the window. "I'll be your waitress for the afternoon. If you need anything, don't be afraid to call for me, 'kay?"

Lauren took her seat—"Thank you."—and eyed Cami with a look that was both hard and apologetic. The "people" she was with were monsters, after all. And Cami was a mortal. It just didn't sit right with her. She glared at Sage and Bekah from across the table.

Cami handed her a menu and held one out for Sage, but the _empousa_ rejected it with a wave of her hand. "We'll have nothing," she said with what Lauren assumed was the "bitch voice" Tony kept talking about.

"Water?" Cami politely suggested.

Sage and Bekah nodded in unison.

"I will have iced tea and… a bowl of seafood gumbo," said Lauren.

"Good choice." Cami grinned. "I'll be back with your orders in a few minutes."

Lauren watched her leave and sighed in agitation. "By bodyguards, surely Tyr did not mean that you are going to accompany me _everywhere_."

"That is precisely what he meant," said Bekah.

"And what if I need to… _relieve_ myself?"

"Oh we'll leave you well enough alone." Sage chuckled. "There isn't many escape routes in a bathroom, let me tell you."

She giggled with Bekah like two school children.

 _These two are dafter than I thought,_ Lauren mused. "That is good to hear—that you won't follow me in."

She didn't make an effort to continue the conversation. There was something so _wrong_ about a demigod acting _pleasant_ towards two monsters. Lauren felt disgusted with herself, but it was a means to an end, she knew. She just had to wait a few more minutes before she'd be with more agreeable company.

True to her word, Cami came back about five minutes later, carrying a tray topped with a tall glass of iced tea, two regular glasses of cold water, a spoon and fork, and a hot bowl of gumbo.

She set the orders down onto the table and smiled at Lauren. "If you need anything else, just give me a holler."

"Thank you, Cami," Lauren said, though she was looking at the food rather than the waitress.

The gumbo looked positively divine. Large chunks of shrimp, crab, and mussels floated around in the thick soup. The pearly bed of rice beneath the gumbo could hardly be seen past the mixture of greens and seafood.

Lauren grabbed the spoon and fork and dug into her food, and very nearly groaned when the strong taste of the gumbo touched her tongue.

One of the wonders of the world, New Orleans was. For once, Lauren had to agree with Tyr. When all the fighting was over, and when the demigods won… _if_ the demigods won—Lauren would make sure to bring the Hunters down to Louisiana and to this very same restaurant, just to let them have a taste of a different, yet delicious, bowl of food.

Nothing could beat the original, after all.

Lauren had to remind herself to keep a slow pace; she had to, if she was going to keep up the ruse that she was staying in the restaurant for the pleasure of it, and not for… more ulterior motives.

Customers came and went. Even so, the restaurant never lapsed into idleness. The sun was high in the sky by the time Lauren was down to her last few bites of gumbo.

And it was then that the restaurant door opened once more to usher in a boy, no more than twenty years old. Raven black hair, olive skin, gothic clothes, and an aura about him that seemed so _dark_ that it was hard to think of him as a hero—Lauren would be able to pick him out from a crowd any day.

But, due to his godly blood, so could Sage and Bekah.

They sniffed at the air, practically baring their teeth.

"You smell that?" said Bekah.

"Demigod," Sage replied. "Powerful one too."

Just as they were starting to turn around, Lauren fixed them with the most dangerous glare that she could muster and said, "If you even _try_ to come close to him, I will kill both of you in the blink of an eye."

Bekah sneered. "Tyr wouldn't appreciate that."

"He also wouldn't appreciate you ignoring the deal that I so gracefully made with him," Lauren retorted. "No killing demigods until tomorrow morning, or the deal is void. And how do you think he would react when I tell him that his _foot soldiers_ had ruined the pact, and not even someone less… expendable?"

The look on the _empousai's_ faces spelled death for Lauren—they were furious—but they wouldn't defy Tyr's orders. "You'll pay for that someday, _Hunter_ ," Sage threatened.

"I do not doubt it."

Lauren watched Nico look around at the restaurant, equally fascinated yet obviously looking for something. And then he met her gaze, and he stilled. Lauren threw him a knowing glance before taking the final bite of her gumbo. She finished her iced tea and looked to the two _empousai_ before her, putting on a nonchalant face. "I have to go to the bathroom."

They grunted but wouldn't meet her gaze. Awfully prideful, monsters were, and Lauren knew it. She raised her hand and Cami rushed over.

"Yes, miss?" she said.

"I was only going to ask where the restroom is."

"Oh!" She pointed her to the right direction. "There's a hall just down there. Two doors—one for girls and one for men. You can't miss it."

"Thank you."

Lauren stood and walked towards the specified hall. Upon doing so, she made sure that her track would allow her to cross paths with Nico.

The boy made it a point to ignore her, as a complete stranger would do, but she caught the way his ears perked up when she muttered, "Meet me at the girl's bathroom. No time to deal with my bodyguards. We leave immediately."

The restroom was empty when Lauren stepped through the doorway. Moments later, Nico appeared before her in a blur of darkness. How he had shadow-travelled away from the main dining room without being seen, she had no idea. All she knew was that they had to leave soon if they were going to make the most of their time.

Nico held his arm out to Lauren. She gripped his forearm and muttered, "There's a St. Vincent's Hospital in Richmond, Virginia."

He nodded and closed his eyes.

Immediately, the shadows around them seemed to grow heavier, growing in length from the corners and crevices on the walls and merging with the dark bodies beneath Lauren and Nico. Lauren felt a sudden weight on her shoulders; the air grew thin and cold within the room.

She would have panicked if it weren't for the absolute calm that was written on her companion's face. Everything that was happening was standard procedure.

The room enveloped them in darkness, and reality fell away around them.

* * *

The world was white and clean—blindingly so, Lauren discerned with an unhappy scowl. Her stomach churned as if she had just done twenty straight backflips.

She must have looked slightly green too; Nico quickly tugged her to the side of the hallway they were in and pushed her to kneel in front of a trash bin. Lauren groaned and buried her face into the bin and promptly vomited the contents of her stomach. Shrimp, crab, and thickener—all of it leaving her stomach in an ugly, grossly colored stream that burned her throat.

Once she was finished, she pulled her head out and was met with the calm, if not slightly amused, face of Nico Di Angelo.

"You speak of this to no one," said Lauren as she glared daggers at him.

The corner of his lip curled up in a smile. "No shame in it," he said. "It took me a while to get used to it. If it makes you feel any better, no one has ever shadow-travelled for the first time without doing that. I've gotten used to it."

He helped her to her feet. Together, they scanned their surroundings.

"Where is everyone?" Lauren asked.

"I brought us to one of the basement hallways, where the fire exits are," said Nico. "Everyone's upstairs."

They looked for the stairwell and followed it up until they reached the first floor of the hospital. As they had been downstairs, the floors and walls were painted white, while any other furniture was grey, black or some special shade of brown.

Lauren regarded the families strewn about and the doctors walking up and down the hall, as she had when she'd first stepped into this hospital, years ago.

Letting her instincts guide her, she led Nico farther up the hallway, where they eventually came upon the receptionist sitting behind a dark mahogany desk.

Upon their approach, she raised her head and eased on a brilliant smile. "What can I help you with?"

"I have a family member confined in one of your units—Mary Brooks," Lauren said. "May I visit her?"

"Yes, we have one Mary Brooks," said the receptionist. "Is she expecting you?"

"No."

"And what is your association with Miss Brooks?"

"I am her daughter."

Surprise crossed her face, followed by disbelief. Stuttering slightly, she said, "Do—do you have any kind of ID on you that can confirm your statement?"

Lauren frowned. "No, but I am the one who brought her here in the first place. I even wrote in one of your information sheets. I placed my signature on it as well."

"It didn't have any contact number. We've been trying to phone you for a while… Alright, if that's who you say you are, please just fill this out and I'll have someone take you to your mother." She pushed a visitor's book towards Lauren, along with a pen. Lauren filled out the necessary spaces and returned it.

The receptionist nodded and caught the attention of one of the passing nurses. "Cass, would you kindly accompany Miss…" She looked down at Lauren's handwriting on the book. "… Lauren to Room 4B."

"No problem." Cass nodded at Lauren and Nico, and continued striding down the hall. They trailed behind her. "It's been a while since Mary's had someone visit her. We were under the impression that all of her close relatives had passed away."

Lauren grimaced as a pang of guilt stung her heart. "Not all of them."

"Oh, well, clearly." The nurse gave a little chuckle and then gave Nico a sideways glance. "And who is this young man?"

"Friend of the family," Lauren said.

Nico easily went along with the lie. "I knew Mary when Lauren and I were kids. I used to go to their house all the time. She was the nicest woman."

"She'll be delighted to see you—both of you," said the nurse.

Lauren couldn't help but to frown, knowing more than anything that the nurse was right, and that brought even more guilt onto her shoulders.

Cass led them to the second floor and stopped in front of a pristine white door with the sign 4B screwed onto it. Slowly, almost cautiously, she opened the door and peeked inside.

"Mary?" Lauren heard her say. "I have a wonderful surprise for you!"

There was a faint reply—very, very faint, like the rustling of leaves beneath a gentle breeze—that made Cass laugh. "Not chocolate, hon', but I could bring you some of that diet pudding you've always liked, later. But no— _visitors_ , Mary. You have visitors."

Another faint reply. This time, Lauren had kept her ears pricked. She heard the crackling voice of her mother as she asked, "Do I know them?" and Lauren smiled a bit at how like a child she sounded.

Compared to the constant image she had of her mother—strong, independent, stubborn—"soft-spoken" was a welcome, if not drastic, change.

Still, as soon as Cass fully opened the door, with the cheery reply, "I'd assume that you would," the sight that greeted Lauren and Nico made her heart clench.

It was exactly the same as in her dreams, achingly so. Lauren had been hoping that perhaps her subconscious was overreacting a bit, that her mother's condition was milder than she'd visualized, but Morpheus hadn't been playing tricks on her.

Cass entered the room with confidence, which was a result of having to do so practically every day. Meanwhile, Nico took tentative steps, only following how Lauren did so; she was scared out of her wits.

She'd faced monsters, the end of the world, and nearly died, but standing before the mother she hadn't seen in over ten years, that was to be her downfall? How ironic that her current weakness was soon going to be her gateway into invulnerability.

Finally, as she was standing before the frail being that she barely recognized, she forced on an easy smile and leant down so her mother could see her face. "Hi, mom."

Mary's glassy eyes remained vacant for several, long moments, before they flashed with recognition. "Lauren?" she said. Slowly, a tired, wrinkled smile spread across her face. "My sweet, sweet girl. You haven't aged a day. I suppose I should have expected that."

She might not have been fully away of just who else was in the room with them, but Lauren was. She threw Cass a meaningful glance, and the nurse took it gracefully and without malice, saying, "I'll give you some privacy."

With that, she turned and exited the room, closing the door behind her.

Immediately, Nico's interested-and-concerned-friend-of-the-family façade fell away, replaced with his usual, neutral attitude—but there was also a layer of careful interest in his body language that didn't escape Lauren. He turned away and turned his attention to the many knick-knacks around the room.

Lauren stared down at her mother, unsure of how to continue. Thankfully, Mary did that for her.

"What took you so long?" asked Mary in a breath of a whisper. "Forget about your old mother so easily?"

The truth was: yes, Lauren had forgotten. Or she had forgotten to care. But who could say that to a woman whose heart was already fragile enough as it was? Lauren resolved to channel her guilt through shrouded words and loving touches.

Uncertainly, she settled onto the bedside of Mary's mattress and placed a hand on top of both of hers, which were clasped on her stomach. Another smile lit up Mary's face and the old woman brought her hand up to catch Lauren's in a gentle but firm grip, as if saying, "Don't go again."

Lauren's returning smile was rueful. "I wish I could tell you that I came here because I had free time, but it's about something much more important."

Mary hummed. "I figured," she said. "Do you finally need help with finances? I won't mind giving you the code to my bank account."

Lauren laughed lightly. "No, mom. I will not be needing help with finances for a very, very long time."

"I wish I could at least see you buy a house for yourself, maybe even wait 'til you give me some grandchildren… But I'm sick, Lauren. I'll be gone soon."

"Do not talk like that." Carried on by some daughterly urge to comfort her mother, Lauren moved a stray length of gray hair from Mary's cheek and soothingly stroked her forehead. "I do not have much time, mother—"

"Since when did you start talking like a Renaissance girl?" Mary interrupted,

This didn't irk Lauren, much to the surprise of Nico, who looked at her from across the room. Probably afraid that she would snap, but there was only infinite patience in her. This was her mother, after all.

She smiled. "Artemis tends to influence any person she meets. I was no different."

"Artemis…" Her mother hummed again. "Is she treating you right?"

"My years with her were the best I've ever lived. You would have liked her… But war is coming—you needn't worry. You will be safe here. I will make sure of it." Lauren's gaze turned solemn. "I came to ask permission from you, for something very important."

"Permission?" Mary croaked. "When was the last time you even asked me for a dollar?"

Despite the circumstances, Lauren managed a smile. "Oh, not for quite some time," she said. "A parent's permission is required for this specific task, you see. If it is not granted and yet I still continue with the task, I will… be punished."

"Don't skirt the topic, Lauren. What do I need to give you permission for?"

Lauren looked up and found her mother's temples crinkled with mirth and understanding. "I need to bathe in the Styx," she said. "The River Styx. It will grant me invulnerability so that I may be able to defeat our enemy, the enemy of the gods."

"And… it will be dangerous for you?"

"Yes."

"Why does it have to be you?"

Lauren shrugged helplessly. "There is no one else strong enough." A little white lie, but she held fast in her belief that it would do no harm.

"My Lauren, the only one strong enough to save the world from monsters." Mary heaved a great sigh and placed her hand upon Lauren's cheek. "I've had my share of adventures, now it's time you have yours. But I won't allow for you to die before me. It wouldn't be right."

"I will not die, mother. I promise." Lauren didn't swear, didn't bind herself to her word, because even she didn't know what was going to happen tomorrow.

She hid her doubt well, and the smile returned to her mother's face. "Before I do this, I should tell you something… A few years after you left with that goddess, I…" Lauren looked on, curiosity piqued at her mother's loss for words. And then Mary continued, "Your father came to me again."

"Ah…" Gratified that her mother had decided to tell her, she graciously accepted her words. "And?"

"And I bore him a son." Mary took a shaky breath. "You have a brother, Lauren."

Lauren smiled at her, a sad smile. "I know."

"You… _know_?" Mary blinked in disbelief.

"I met Ethan at Camp Half-Blood a few days ago." At the completely astonished look on her mother's face, Lauren could only muster half a smile. "He was a wonderful child, mother. You raised him well."

"Surely he recognized you—your aura, at least," Mary said. "Did he tell you about me? Were you friendly with him?"

"I was… amiable, in a way, I suppose."

But Mary must have noticed the grimness laced within Lauren's words, for she said, "Is he going to fight in this war too, with you?"

"No, mother, because…" After a brief moment of wondering whether she should tell her, she said, "He is dead."

The effect was immediate. The brightness died in Mary's eyes, replaced by an all-encompassing grief that struggled to swallow Lauren whole.

"What kind of world is it today where children are killed before they've even had the chance to live their lives?" Mary said in a broken whisper.

Lauren watched as she nestled her head deeper into the pillows. A tear escaped her eye and trailed down her face. Lauren brushed it away and cupped her cheek, gently forcing her to meet her eyes.

"I know who killed him. And he has killed many others—countless others—warriors, friends. But I know how to put him down for good," she said. " _I give you my blessing._ It is all you need to say, and then I will avenge Ethan—I will avenge them all."

Mary stared up at her daughter for a good, long moment, as the tears finally abated, and seemed satisfied at what she saw. With a nod and a note of finality, Mary said, "I give you my blessing."

Nothing happened. No mysterious force settled on Lauren's shoulders. No strong breeze forcefully entered the room and enveloped her body. No heavenly light appeared from above and blinded her senses, cleansed her. Unsure, and even slightly panicked, Lauren craned her neck and looked for Nico.

He didn't look at all surprised. He just nodded at her and said, "It's done."

With a sigh of relief, Lauren turned back to her mother and squeezed her hand, not risking a smile, but nevertheless sending her gratefulness towards her in waves. "Thank you."

Mary brought a trembling hand up to the back of Lauren's head and gave a gentle push. Lauren did the rest and leaned down, until her mother's lips brushed against her forehead in a tender kiss.

"Be safe, Lauren," she whispered. "Make your father proud."

"I will."

Piece by piece, her resolve was put back together by her mother's words. Lauren looked down at her one last time before following Nico out of the door and back into the bustling hallways of the hospital. Without stopping, they marched to the fire exits once more and, once down the staircases, grabbed hold of each other's forearms.

Lauren, in a tone that could only be described as dumbstruck, said, "What were the chances of me being related to that stubborn oaf?"

"A million to one." Nico raised an eyebrow. "To Central Park?"

Lauren nodded. "It is high time we paid the Underworld a visit. I, at least, have been long overdue in the halls of Hades."

Nico smirked. "Speak for yourself."

* * *

 **I hope I didn't mess this chapter up too much. I wasn't too happy with it in the first place, but I couldn't figure out what I could change to make it better.**

 **Anyway, we're heading down to hell in the next chapter! (Quite literally, abububu.)**

 **Don't forget to leave a review! Have an awesome day!**

 **P.S. Who watches the Originals here? ;)**


	33. Chapter 32 - Styx

**Okay, NOW we head to the Styx. (Sorry for the delay. School sucks.)**

* * *

Nico managed to control his shadow-travelling just enough for them to materialize in a particularly secluded area of Central Park.

Past the grove of trees that stood as an obstacle before them was the frozen lake. The ice was thick enough for people to skate on them, and skate they did. Families and couples skimmed across the wide expanse of smooth ice, enjoying themselves to their hearts' content.

Lauren stared at them and was thankful that Nico hadn't transported them in the middle of the park. It would certainly make it to the newspapers: _"Redhead and goth boy appear out of nowhere, scares Central Park citizens."_

She and Nico trudged out of the grove and scanned the park for Barton. Only Lauren knew what she was looking for: a suspicious man garbed in thick clothes, alone, and looking rather out of place. She found him sitting on a bench on the other side of the park, across the expanse of snow and children hurling snowballs at each other. She pointed him out to Nico and they made their way to him.

Barton noticed their presence when they were halfway through the park. He stood and moved to intercept them, and Lauren had to stop, once more taken aback at how much he looked like Orion.

Before, she hadn't really been paying attention to his looks, so caught up with trying to get them out of whatever predicament they might have gotten themselves into in one piece. Now that she'd gotten some time away, time for herself, the feeling of normality that she'd somehow forged when being with the man who was a doppelganger of her sworn enemy had gone away, leaving her a confused mess.

It took her a whole minute to calm down her racing heart and remind herself that this was not Orion. This was Clint Barton, someone who—she had decided only two nights ago—she could trust.

Standing directly in front of each other in the middle of Central Park, Barton gave Lauren an appraising look, as if checking to see if Tyr had hurt her; then he raised his head to meet her gaze and must have recognized her through her eyes, for he was then suddenly hugging her.

Lauren couldn't deny that she had missed his familiar presence, even though the hug was perhaps a bit too much. Still, she allowed it to last for a moment more before pulling away and giving him a hard look. "What was that for?"

The agent shrugged. "Just figured that you might die in a few hours, so why not?"

"Well, don't get used to it." Lauren turned to Nico and, upon noticing the sheen of sweat on his face, frowned. "Are you all right?"

The son of Hades dismissed her concern with a wave of his hand. "I'll be fine. Just need to take a rest from shadow travelling for a bit."

"We can have that arranged. There's a passage near here that leads directly to the Underworld, is there not?"

Nico nodded. "Follow me."

The agent and the Hunter tailed him as he walked closer to the frozen pond. Lauren was mulling over just what was going to happen very soon; there was the possibility that she was going to die, but then again, that was always a given factor when it came to a demigod's life.

So lost was she in her thoughts that she didn't notice Barton observing her until he cleared his throat.

She blinked herself out of her stupor and regarded him with weary eyes. "What is it?"

"You okay?" he asked. "No traumatic events that happened at Tyr's that I should know about?"

Lauren was sure that she would have been grateful for his worry, had the situation been any less grim. But at the moment, all she could manage was a deep frown. "It is a tad too late for that question, Agent Barton."

His joking mood quickly vanished, and he seemed to struggle to regain control of the situation. "I—I didn't mean it like that—"

"I know exactly how you meant it." But she didn't know whether to say that she found no offense at all in his words, so she said nothing more, afraid to dishonor the memory of her fallen friends.

Chastised, Barton allowed a moment of silence before continuing, "I _am_ sorry about what happened at Camp, Lauren. I know how much they meant to you… and how much Ethan meant to you."

 _There it is,_ Lauren thought. For a moment, she debated on whether or not to tell him about Mary's revelation. In the end, she figured that he deserved to know, since he had been there when Apollo had first dropped a hint on who Ethan's human mother was.

Without straying her eyes from the path, Lauren said, "He was my brother."

This didn't seem to faze the agent at all. "Apollo wasn't lying then," he said.

"Gods rarely lie… at least, if they are on your side," Lauren added after a second's pause. "When I visited my mother just before meeting you here, she told me herself that she gave birth to Ethan several years after I went off with Artemis. I do not know why Ethan did not visit her when he was older; she seemed quite taken with him."

Barton frowned. "How do you know he didn't visit her?"

"One of the nurses at the hospital kept saying that my mother hadn't had a visitor in years. It seemed like I and Nico were the newest faces she'd seen in a while."

"Maybe your mom put Ethan up for adoption, or into an orphanage or something. Happens all the time."

"But why would she do that?"

At this, the agent only shrugged. "Another mystery that doesn't look like it's going to be solved any time soon, with Ethan de—passed away and all that."

"And my mother will be the same, soon."

Clint fixed her with a firm stare. "I didn't say that."

"You did not have to. She told me herself, that she's very sick, that the sickness is killing her." Lauren did her best to look nonchalant, but in the end, she just looked like a girl who had decided that she'd seen enough, gone through _enough_. "It seems only right. Thanatos is angry that I escaped from his clutches, and so he will reap the soul of the woman who birthed me into the world."

"Lauren."

At the hard, almost angry tone in Barton's voice, Lauren raised her head and found that he was looking at her in a scolding manner. But there was an underlying sympathy there too. Helplessness. Lauren resisted the urge to scoff. As if a professionally trained assassin could ever feel helpless.

She gazed at him evenly before she turned her attention to the small rock formation that Nico had led them to.

"Is this it?" she asked.

"The Door of Orpheus. It's a straight shot down to the Styx. We won't have to pass by Cerberus," said Nico.

Barton raised an eyebrow. "You mean that big three-headed dog thing?"

"Hades' security dog," Lauren clarified. "How do we open it?"

"Same way Orpheus did," Nico said. "Music. Any kind, as long as it's good."

He looked expectantly at Barton, and the agent backed away with hands raised. "Hey, don't look at me. Tasha threatened to kick me out last time I got drunk enough to start singing."

So Nico looked to Lauren, and she glared back at him. "No."

The boy rolled his eyes. "Do you want to get to the Styx or not?"

Of course she wanted to get to the Styx. She had come too far to stop now. But to _sing_ … She only sang when the healing herbs of the Hunters weren't enough and she had to call on the help of Apollo to save one of their own. She had never sung in front of _men_ , much less someone as widely-known as Hawkeye.

Swallowing her pride, she closed her eyes and forced herself to forget about Nico and Barton. In the safety of her mind, it was just her and the Door of Orpheus.

So, hoping she hadn't gotten rusty, she picked out the first song—or, rather, the first melody—that could come to mind and just went for it. There were no lyrics to it. Lauren had never much liked the concept of adding words to a song; she found it too straightforward, too palpable.

The melody she sang wasn't cheery, nor was it haunting.

When the sound of stone rubbing against stone reached her ears, Lauren continued for another second or two before stopping completely and opening her eyes. Where a closed rock formation had once been, there was now a doorway of sorts with a stairway that disappeared into the darkness.

Lauren felt Nico and Barton still staring at her, and she muttered in a cold voice, "Speak of this to anyone and I will stick an arrow down your throats."

They took the statement rather seriously, though Nico had a smirk on his face when he moved to enter the dark crevice. "I'll go first," he said and immediately began the walk down to the Underworld.

Barton glanced at Lauren, and somehow she already knew what he was going to say next: "Ladies first."

Lauren pursed her lips. She entered the gloom of the crevice and, after a few steps, found that she could see nothing at all. Ahead of her, she heard Nico draw his sword, and he called for her to do the same. She unsheathed the Traust sword; it provided enough light so Lauren could see a single step ahead of her, nothing more.

Barton's familiar presence behind her soothed her growing nerves, and the fact that he was just as uncomfortable as her—with the narrow, slippery steps and all—offered her some form of entertainment.

The walk must have lasted for an hour, _at least_. By the time the roaring of a river had registered in Lauren's senses, claustrophobia was already creeping in and she was having difficulty breathing.

The tunnel finally came to an end, and both Lauren and Barton were breathing rather heavily. They emerged at the base of a cliff. Beneath their feet was black sand, as dark as ash. Lauren raised her head and found large, jagged rocks lining the ceiling. The sound of Nico's voice reached her ears.

"There it is," he said, pointing to their right.

And, indeed, there it was: a polluted river gushing from the rocks and roaring off to Zeus-knew-where. The water of the river itself was translucent black, almost glowing, looking too thin to seem like tar. Its light refracted onto the faces of Nico, Lauren, and Barton as they took in their surroundings rather ineptly.

"So," said Clint. "This is hell, huh?"

"This is the Greek hell," Lauren replied. "But seeing as you aren't Greek, there is a very small chance of you seeing this place ever again."

"That's good to hear."

Nico suddenly turned to Lauren and studied her features. If he was looking for fear, he wasn't going to find any. All she felt was acceptance of the moment; either she was going to die, or she wasn't. It was that simple.

"Better jump in before Achilles comes," Nico said. "He won't be too happy to find out that a _girl_ is about to accept his curse. He barely let Percy do it, and he wasn't even of age yet."

"Neither am I… technically." Lauren sighed, steeling herself for what she was about to do. "Is there anything else I need to know before getting in there?"

"Concentrate on your mortal point, the one spot on your body that'll stay vulnerable. That's what's going to anchor your body to the world. Lose sight of it, get distracted the tiniest bit, and the river will burn away your body and soul. You'll cease to exist." He must have noticed the way her eyes widened the slightest bit, for he added on a light tone, "No pressure."

Lauren retreated into herself for a long moment. Where would be a good Achilles Heel? Something no one would expect, something she could easily move if someone had—by chance—aimed for it with his or her weapon. She had always been very agile, with her feet specifically…

 _Achilles Heel._

No one would expect her to take the term literally; they all knew her to be very clever, very careful with everything. If she were to place her Achilles Heel on her foot, it would be the riskiest thing she'd ever done to date.

But then, maybe it was time for something different.

She stepped up to the river, her feet only inches from touching the water. As she was imagining a cord connecting her to the world from her right heel, which was always the first foot that she moved whilst doing something, Barton came to stand beside her. She was positive that she hadn't seen him so anxious before.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked.

"If Orion could do it, so can I." Her decision was made. Backing out wasn't an option anymore.

Barton placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it tight. He seemed to be struggling for words, and then he settled for something simple. "Just don't die, okay?"

 _I'll try._ Lauren didn't say that out loud, fearing that it would only scare him further. She only nodded and turned away from him, focusing all her attention on the objective at hand, which was to survive the next minute… or hour.

"How long will it take?" she asked.

"For Percy, it was little more than five minutes," Nico answered.

Five minutes. Three hundred seconds, exactly. Lauren took a deep breath. Concentrate on staying alive. It was all she had to do.

Before she could change her mind, she hastily dropped her bow and quiver onto the sand, and stepped into the river, right heel first.

It felt like the scorpion's poison all over again, but a hundred times worse. As soon as her foot touched the riverbed, all strength seemed to leave her bones. She fell and was lost under the current.

Any semblance of sanity was replaced with the faces of the dead.

Phoebe, her face lit up with mirth; Thalia, lips playfully pursed at something Lauren had said; Jean, mouth open mid-laugh; Chloe, a mischievous grin on her face. And then there was Jill, looking down in concentration as she braided Artemis' mane of auburn hair.

They vanished quickly, and with each disappearing face, Lauren felt the pain grow worse.

She was dying. She was _failing_ … Failing the world, failing Chiron, failing her mother—

Mary's voice echoed to her. "My Lauren, the only one strong enough to save the world. Just like her mother."

"Do well, Lauren," said Artemis.

"Quest might be over, but we're still partners," Clint said, awfully cheeky. "And you told me yesterday that you trust me. Do you still trust me?"

 _Yes._

The pain receded from one spot on her body. Her Achilles Heel. The cord she had imagined there was pulling at her, tugging her back to full consciousness.

She opened her eyes and saw Clint in the water with her, reaching for her hand. Behind him was the corpse of a sea monster and the wreckage of a cruise ship. She remembered now—they'd been attacked, and he'd saved her.

She trusted him, and he trusted her in return. To save the world with him. How was she going to do that if she died in the Underworld, with not even a proper burial to spur the Greeks and the Romans into a battle rage?

An image popped up in her head, of Barton—and beside him was a long line of fallen Hunters—holding a yard of string; the end of it was tied around Lauren's right foot.

Through the pain, she curled in on herself and reached for the string.

She was spewed out of the river and left to curl up on the sand. A fish out of water. A _hurting_ fish out of water. Every part of her felt like it had been dipped into a pot of boiling hot acid. Her pores felt like they were burning, but the pain was slowly fading.

The sand beside her shifted and someone's hand came to rest on her shoulder. "Your skin… Lauren, what—"

"Don't worry," Nico interrupted. "It worked."

Lauren peered up at Clint, vision blurry, and muttered, "Give me an arrow." He reached over his shoulder, but she stopped him with a vigorous shaking of her head. "One of mine," she clarified.

As he moved to retrieve her bow and quiver of arrows, Lauren gingerly accepted Nico's offer of help and allowed him to pull her to her feet.

Barton handed her a Celestial bronze arrow. She looked at Nico for confirmation—he nodded—and then drove the arrow into her palm. Except it couldn't penetrate her skin. The shaft wobbled in her fingers, reeling from the impact.

Lauren brought her hand up. There was a slight pain, like how a new bruise would feel, but nothing so life threatening. She could tell that Barton was trying his best not to give away his initial surprise, but he only ever managed to look mildly impressed.

"It worked," Lauren murmured, still not quite believing she had survived such a process. She could feel that she was still a Hunter, but she also felt this new kind of strength flowing in her veins. It was as if, all her life, she'd only been half-alive, and now the Styx had given her everything else.

As if sensing her growing confidence, Nico, with an obvious warning in his voice, said, "The Styx didn't only heighten the sensitivity of your physical weakness, but of your spiritual weakness too. I'm sure you know what I mean by that."

She did. "My fatal flaw."

Nico bobbed his head. "It may be part of your identity, but you have to learn to keep it in check. Most of the time, wearing your fatal flaw on your sleeve doesn't end too well. Achilles was too arrogant, so Paris was able to kill him."

"I understand." She looked around, noting the walls of Erebos in the distance, silhouetted by the hellfire in the Fields of Punishment. And if she heightened her hearing even the slightest bit, she could hear the souls of the damned yelling bloody murder.

Barton frowned. "What's that?"

"It comes from the Fields of Punishment, where Greeks who were damned are constantly crying out—"

"No, not that." He leaned forward the slightest bit. " _That_."

Frowning, Lauren listened harder and was able to make out the monstrous growling of a very large, very upset dog. And it was only then that she noticed the giant black mass hurling towards them from the main gates.

Cerberus was a ghost-dog, meaning that he was half-transparent, so that explained why they hadn't seen him until he'd already closed half the distance and was crouched to jump across the Styx.

Lauren whirled around and ran back to the base of the cliff, where the door was, and Barton was right behind her. But Nico wasn't.

"Nico! Come on! What are you…?"

Barton trailed off. He was taking so long to enter the passageway that Lauren was forced to come back and see what he was staring at, and she had to admit, the scene before them was disturbingly charming, in a way.

Cerberus was on his back, tail wagging so fast that it was a blur, and Nico was sprawled across the three-headed dog's stomach, scratching whatever surface his hands—tiny, compared to Cerberus' paws—could find. Some part of Lauren wasn't surprised, seeing that Nico was a son of Hades and all. But if she had a hard time taking it in, then Barton was absolutely speechless.

Grinning, (and what a sight that was,) Nico waved them over. "Come on! He won't bite."

Cerberus really was a precious thing, whenever he wasn't playing around and very nearly killing them in the process. Nico seemed to be the only one who felt truly at ease with him. Barton was amiable, but stiff and clearly uncomfortable; Lauren was very much the same.

After only a few minutes of playing with the giant dog, Lauren became anxious to leave. She'd already been gone for too long. She was pondering on what Tyr would say, or what he would do, once she returned to New Orleans. The prospect of being subjected to his wrath didn't appeal to her as strongly as leaving the city did.

"We should go," she said to Nico, who only nodded in response. He muttered a few choice words to Cerberus, and the dog gave him a long lick before bounding over the Styx once more and returning to his post by the main gates.

Lauren regarded Nico's form, glistening with Cerberus's saliva, and said, "You should stay in the back of the group… so as to mask our scents from the Furies. They won't be too happy if they find out that we have been here."

Nico shrugged resignedly.

With Lauren at the head, they reentered the narrow passageway and began the long climb back to the land of the living.

* * *

Once they arrived at the north side of the Pond, on the _upside_ of Central Park, Lauren wasted no time in saying her farewells. "Tell Chiron what happened," she said, "And that I have no insights whatsoever on Tyr's plan."

"Not even how big of an army he has?" asked Barton.

"Perhaps approximately a hundred thousand strong, _at least_."

Nico crossed his arms. "I sure hope that it's _just_ a hundred thousand strong, or else we'd be in way over our heads."

"We're already in way over our heads, ever since that Rachel girl spewed out those prophecies," Barton said. "But Earth's not going down without a fight."

"Right, I'm sure Earth's Mightiest Heroes have gone through worse."

Clint lowered his head. "Don't be too sure."

A chill suddenly crept up Lauren's spine. Her instincts were telling her to leave Central Park immediately. She grabbed Nico's arm. "Let's leave now, please."

Seeing as Lauren rarely used the word 'please', Nico took her pretty seriously. He wrapped his fingers around her forearm as well and took a deep breath. "On your mark."

Lauren nodded and faced Barton, filled with such momentousness that she couldn't stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth. "When we meet again tomorrow, it will be during a war, and we will be enemies."

The look on his face prompted her to choose her next words more carefully.

"I will have my own fights to fight, and you will have yours. If we ever cross paths… Well, let us try our best to make it look convincing. For my sake."

"I'll make sure to tell the others that." An odd smile crossed his face, and he nodded. "You take care of yourself, alright?"

"Alright." After taking one last look at the agent, Lauren gave the go signal to Nico, and the two of them tumbled into the shadows once more.

* * *

 **The final battle is nearing! But in the mean time, what did you think of this chapter? Make sure to leave a review!**

 **Have an awesome week!**


	34. Chapter 33 - Antebellum

**Bit of a filler chapter, but shit still goes down. However, the REAL shit shall go down in the next chapter, where the battle will officially begin! So yeah, y'all have that to look forward to.**

 **I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Nico dropped her off in an isolated extension of Bourbon Street, where Lauren could see the sign of Deveraux just several ways away.

Before she could say goodbye, or even a brief word of thanks, the shadows had swallowed Nico and brought him back to their domain once more. With a sigh, Lauren walked out into the streets of New Orleans and made her way to the hotel where Tyr was surely waiting for her.

The sun was still high in the sky, a bright light that served to illuminate the darkness of what was to come—illuminating the choices and sacrifices that Lauren would no doubt have to make.

The receptionist of the hotel greeted her with a fleeting smile. By that time, she had resigned herself to a day and night filled with misery and quiet loathing directed at a particular one-handed god. But what she had waiting for her in her room was frightening, to say the least, but nevertheless expected.

She had only just placed her hand on the knob when the door was pulled open, revealing a very angry Bekah.

The _empousa_ practically dragged her to the center of the room. Taking hold of the situation, Lauren threw her off and unsheathed the Traust sword in a blur of movement. Bekah retreated to stand by her sister Sage, who was standing by the far wall looking no less pleased.

"Handle me like that again and I will lop both of your heads off," Lauren growled.

There came a new voice—a familiar one, unfortunately so.

"I have to agree, Beks. That was poorly done," Tyr said. He stepped in from around the corner and immediately dominated the room with his towering figure. His voice was laced with condescension, and the look in his eyes spelled hell fury. And that emotion, Lauren knew, was solely for her.

"But I'm also curious as to why she had to drag you here in the first place. After breakfast, I thought that you were going to walk with them back here like a good little girl." Then his eyebrows rose, as if in innocence, and he gestured to the bed. "Oh but I'm sure you're tired. Please, take a seat, and put your sword away while you're at it. This is going to be a long talk. Wouldn't want you to get blisters."

He spoke with her as if she was a child who knew nothing of the world. Lauren evenly returned his angry gaze and remained standing, determined not to make herself any smaller than she already felt. "I went to the bathroom, and then I went for a walk," she carefully announced. "It is not my fault that they didn't see me walk out."

"Lies, master!" Sage cried. "She conspired with that sunken-faced demigod and got out with him somehow!"

"Are we lying to each other now, Lauren?" said Tyr, sickeningly sweet. "Shame. I thought we made a great team. But since it's already been a day and you still refuse to cooperate, well, I'll have to punish you."

Lauren sneered. "You will not kill me. I am too valuable, after all." To prove her point, she spun the sword in her hand as if it weighed nothing more than a feather.

"Kill you?" Tyr looked appalled, but it was all part of the act. "No, I wouldn't dream of it. I was thinking more along the lines of torture."

Her smugness disappeared but she was just as determined as ever. Tyr couldn't hurt her, not unless he found her Achilles Heel, which was highly unlikely. Originally, she'd been planning on keeping her newly acquired invulnerability a secret—at least until the war began, so he wouldn't have a choice but to let her fight. But now it seemed that her plans didn't matter anymore.

From the corner of her eye, she caught Bekah disappear into a backroom, shielded by a wall. When she returned, she was dragging a young man by his hair—human, from the looks of it.

His hands and feet were bound. A thick piece of cloth was tied around his head, covering the inside of his mouth so anything he said was muffled. But his eyes were wide, his cheeks tear-streaked, and that was enough to convey the absolute fear that he was in.

Bekah deposited the man by Tyr's feet.

Though her blood had turned cold, Lauren refused to show any pity. "Why is he here?" she asked, barely managing to keep her voice from wavering.

Quite unexpectedly, Tyr drew his sword and placed the blade just by the man's jawline. "Make any move, struggle the tiniest bit, and he dies."

The man's eyes went wide, nearly bulging from their sockets. Even then, Lauren could see the thin strip of blood travelling down his neck. Helpless, she dropped her head. Sage and Bekah ate up her defeat and forced her down on the bed frame (only very recently stripped of its mattress). They tied her hands to the horizontal bars of the frame, leaving her as defenseless as a newborn babe. They didn't take her sword though—they couldn't—but even its telltale humming wasn't enough to silence her anxiety.

"Torture," Lauren scoffed. "I would have thought that the Norse were past such medieval methods of interrogation."

"Oh, dear, this isn't an interrogation. This is a lecture, and I plan on educating you properly." Tyr handed the hostage over to Sage and Bekah; they kept him on his feet and forced him to watch everything that unfolded before him. The smile on Tyr's face was sinister as he placed the tip of his blade on Lauren's forearm. "Obey me, or suffer the consequences."

He drew his sword back and there was this sort of grinding sound, like his blade had been placed against cement instead of skin. Lauren winced slightly at the feel of metal on her skin—a natural reaction—and again, there was pain, but only very little.

The tension and sheer astonishment in the room was palpable. Lauren feared what Tyr would do.

And then the _empousai_ were hissing at her like enraged felines.

"Master," Bekah growled. "She's been to the Styx."

A storm was brewing behind Tyr's eyes. If looks could kill, Lauren would have been vaporized on the spot. But she held fast and returned his glare with equal steeliness. "If I had asked permission, would you have allowed me? Of course not."

She knew that she was poking and prodding at a very, very incensed lion, but she refused to cower in fear. Not to someone so dishonorable.

"I took you with me for the _sword_ , not so you could turn yourself into a hero and _survive_!" Tyr roared. In his anger, he raised his sword as if he was going to cut off her head. "You irritating, ungrateful piece of lindworm filth! I should feed you to Jormungand right now."

Lauren had no idea what he was going on about, but she decided to resume taunting him. "But you _can't_. You need me and you know it."

The fire in his eyes simmered low, weak but still promising pain to anything that stoked it. "Perhaps," he said, and then pointed to the hostage. "But I don't need _him_."

Lauren frowned, quickly backtracking. "He has nothing to do with this."

"How did you put it? Lop your head off?" he continued, repeating what she had said earlier to the two _empousai_ —both of whom were now forcing the hostage onto his knees.

The young man was begging through the cloth inside his mouth, shaking his head in panic and fear.

"Tyr, stop!" Lauren shouted; he was already raising his sword. "He has nothing to do with this! Stop! Let him—"

In a flash of glinting metal and splattering blood, the hostage's head was disconnected from his body and rolled onto the floor. Lauren looked away, guilt suddenly taking over.

"Find more of them in the other rooms. Make sure to keep them quiet, and that you aren't seen," Tyr barked at Sage and Bekah. "Our new friend needs to learn a little lesson in obedience."

* * *

There were three women and four men. Tyr made sure to let Lauren know that all of them had families to take care of. For a moment or so, Tyr would allow Bekah to remove the cloth inside their mouths, always with the warning of "don't scream". And Lauren would have to hear their pleas, begging Tyr to let them live.

"My mother can't take care of herself. She can't even eat without me. She _needs_ me."

"I have a wife and kid at home. I'm the only one who works for the money. Please, let me go. Let me work for them."

"My dad can barely walk to the bathroom alone! He's so scared—scared of everything, after what happened last year. I have to go back to him. He needs me."

 _Please, please, please,_ over and over again.

After a while, Lauren just shut down. She couldn't look away—Sage made sure of that—but she'd flipped this switch that turned off her emotions. Not fully, apparently. And as more people came into the room, as the bodies just piled up, it proved not to be enough. The guilt returned full force, drowning her in continuous waves. The humans' pleas echoed over and over in her head, and more just kept coming.

When Tyr ran his blade through the fourth man, he sighed, seemingly in contentment, and sheathed his blade. "I think that's enough," he said. "Put the bodies in garbage bags. We'll burn them in New Mexico."

Lauren's ears perked up at that. She struggled a bit, worsening the bruises and the rope burns on her wrists, but the little defiance she had left had returned. "Are we leaving so soon?" she asked. "I was hoping to have another bowl of gumbo before the world ended."

"We could always make a bowl for ourselves," said Tyr. He kicked at the most recently killed human, who was a Creole. "Black…" He gestured to the backroom, where the rest of the bodies were. "… Or white?"

That shut her up.

With a smug grin, Tyr moved to stand next to where she was tied down to the bed frame. "New Mexico is nearest to Yggdrasil," he explained. "It'll be easier to transport from world to world from there."

"How do you expect me to fight against the demigods when there are not going to be any demigods _at all_?" Lauren demanded. "All the fighting is going to be focused in New York and San Francisco."

"Silly Hunter, _you_ may be stationed in New York, but I'm not. I'm going to Asgard, to kill the Norse." He chuckled. "I need a lieutenant, after all."

Swallowing back the bile in her throat, she said, "If you plan on fighting Odin alone, then you are a fool. Heimdall will be there, and Frigga. You are no match for them all."

Anger settled in once more on Tyr's features. "I don't need a lecturing on _them_. I grew up in the palace just like them. Their magic tricks won't do much for them when I'm finished."

"And Loki?"

Tyr laughed. "After that incident with the Avengers? He's more likely to aid me than fight alongside his oaf of a brother. He hates Asgard nearly as much as I do."

Lauren strongly hoped that that wasn't going to be the case. There was the gory sound of bodies wading through pools of blood, as Sage and Bekah dealt with the dead in the backroom, and Lauren winced. "Are we finished here? My wrists are starting to hurt."

"Before I let you go, I have one last subtopic to discuss—and I suggest you take notes." His voice dropped as he leaned down, his face so frighteningly close to hers that she could almost see the fire raging in his eyes. "I won't ask you where your Achilles Heel is. I don't want to know, and I don't need to. If you ever betray us, Orion will have the pleasure of finding it, but even before he has, you'll be in so much pain that you're going to be the one to tell him."

Not even pure guilt could make her tell him. Despite the shiver that ran down her spine, she still managed to spit in Tyr's face.

The god sneered at her, the hatred clear on his face. "And just so you know: if you ever leave again _without_ your bodyguards or _without_ me, the punishment will be worse. Far worse."

"This? This was nothing."

"I'm sure it was, but next time, I won't be killing just anybody. Oh no. If I ever find out that you tried to escape again, I'll wait for the war. And when the war is over, I'll pick out every one of your friends that weren't killed, and I'll flay them alive. Right in front of you." He hummed in thought for a moment, before saying, "That boyfriend of yours—the handsome archer—oh, he'll be receiving some special treatment. Courtesy of your disobedience."

She refused to show him anything, refused to give him anything. But Tyr still looked like a satisfied child as he was cutting off her bonds. "You could keep that from happening though. Disobey me; I'll make it long and slow. But cooperate and oblige…" He grinned at her. "I'll give you permission to kill them quickly."

* * *

Lauren's perception of New Mexico had always been anything related to the words _hot_ and _dry_ ; really, though, there was nothing different about it than in any other part of America.

The ground was thick with ice, and the temperature was freezing. But the layers of falling snow were thinner than in New York. Still, Lauren was left gasping for breath; the clothes she wore weren't enough, and Tyr wasn't merciful enough to lend her his fur coat, no matter how gentlemanly he always acted.

She was cooperative. Of this, she had to make sure. Not just for the sake of Barton and for the sake of everyone that she cared about, but for the sake of the entire war. Everything was up to her now. If she was going to be effective in helping to lead the Greeks to victory, then she needed Tyr's trust—perhaps only some of it, and that was already near impossible considering how much she wanted to murder him in his sleep.

He took her everywhere as he went from faction to faction, explaining to them how the battle was going to be played out. He made it all rather complicated, so as to surprise the Greeks; even Lauren had to admit that there was a high chance of it working.

Andleut, the Jotunn general, was going to send half of his army to Asgard, and the other half to New York. Tyr was to oversee the attack on the Norse, accompanied by Khione. Andleut was to oversee the attack on the Greeks with Lauren, who was given the duty to lead a quarter of Khione's army of monsters. The other majority of her army was going to separate and make way for San Francisco, to attack the Romans.

This was where Orion was going to be.

He would lead the attack on Camp Jupiter, for obvious reasons. The first and foremost being that Reyna was going to be there. Lauren was sure that she was the first one Orion wanted to kill. Or perhaps he would save her for last; instead first making her watch the destruction of everything she had given her life for.

Lauren wanted nothing more than to kill him at that moment.

When they were walking away from Tyr's final meeting of the day, the god looked down at her with an insidious smile on his face. "Learned enough?" he said. "Feel free to relay everything to your precious camp. I'd pay to see them fight like it was Ragnarok, only to see their efforts wasted in the end. It would be satisfying."

There wasn't going to be any renting of hotel rooms anymore, with the war so close to beginning. Tyr's troops had set up camp in the desert of New Mexico, many miles away from civilization. It wasn't at all cozy, but the monsters didn't mind.

Lauren regarded them all with hateful eyes from outside her designated tent, which was right beside Tyr's. At least she wasn't going to be sharing one with him. If that happened, she could make no promises in not killing him.

By the time the excitement had died down among the monsters, night had taken over completely and everything was dark. No campfire had been lit.

Lauren was certain that she was going to die from the cold.

Her dip in the Styx wasn't going to save her from that. But before she could even ponder on the positive outcomes if such an event were to pass, the flap of her tent was pulled open, revealing a _dracaena_. It hissed at her before dropping something at her feet, something that looked suspiciously like a blanket.

Wordlessly, Lauren tugged it onto her shivering form and sighed at the warmth it provided. The inside was disturbingly smooth, like how skin would feel, while the outside was furry.

It was a bear hide, Lauren realized. She didn't much care. When out in the wild, she and the Hunters had often resorted to such primitive usage of animal skins. Artemis had taught them to do what they must to survive, but not in the context of heartlessly and cruelly committing sin.

Lauren suddenly remembered all the people Tyr had murdered in the past 48 hours alone. And she thought on the deeds she was going to be forced to do the following day. Killing her own kind for the sake of remaining undercover would be a heartless sin indeed. She couldn't bear to think of how ashamed Artemis would be with her when the war ended, either with the victory of Earth or the conquering of it.

In the dead of night, Lauren's thoughts went out to Jill. How she missed her.

Before, the mere knowledge of her being alive and with the other Hunters was enough to quench Lauren's anxieties; now, she was dead, along with probably more than half of the Hunters of Artemis. Lauren wasn't going to let the remainder of them fall one by one like mere insects. Not again.

Gathering her wits about her, she drew a deep breath and softly called out, "Tyr." No reply came, as expected, but she knew that he was listening. "I would have words with you."

She could have sworn that she heard his chuckling in her head. Outside, there was the crunch of boots on snow. Lauren stood and drew herself up to her full height, doing her best to ignore the cold. After another few seconds, Tyr entered the tent and looked at her with amused eyes.

"You called?" he said.

Before she could have second thoughts, she said, "I want to strike a deal."

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow, wandering deeper into the tent. "I thought we already had."

"I want you to grant amnesty to those who willingly surrender during the war."

Her tone was completely serious, and even with a hint of a warning, but he only chuckled and shook his head. "I'm running an army here, not a democracy. No, you and I have had one deal too many already."

"I will not take no for an answer. Either you accept, or I go on a killing spree. And we both know that you can't stop me. There will be no monsters left come morning, perhaps not even you."

"I'm not afraid of your threats… But Orion won't be too happy when he finds that all of his troops are dead." His eyes glinted with malice, even when his voice spoke of friendliness and generosity. "What do I get in return?"

Lauren knew at that moment that she had absolutely no chance of getting into the Isles of the Blest. "I do anything that you ask. Whatever your order, I will carry out."

A grin stretched across Tyr's face as he leaned towards her. "I'm beginning to like this agreement," he said. " _Anything_?"

"Anything."

He was silent for quite a while. Lauren knew that he was only doing that to tease her, because in fact, he had already made his decision. "It's a deal," said the god, holding out his arm that ended in a stump.

Disgusted with herself, Lauren reached out and shook the proffered arm.

* * *

 _ **NIGHT 9**_

Isolation from the monsters around her offered no comfort. She wouldn't get any sleep—not even a second it—and she knew it.

There was no rest for the wicked, after all.

And how wicked she was for even lying there at that moment. She could be fighting to get back to Long Island, so she could combat alongside her sisters and brothers when the time came, but instead she was behind enemy lines, not even trying to sabotage any of Tyr's plans.

 _At least I will be away from Asgard,_ she thought. That way, she wouldn't be forced to kill any innocent bystanders. And she wouldn't come face to face with Odin. Despite their previous disagreements, she didn't know if she could actually bring herself to kill him, especially under Tyr's orders. It was the best of a bad situation.

Her thoughts then went out to Tyr, for putting her in such a situation in the first place. With a small smirk, she pulled the animal fur over her head, enveloping herself in total blackness. She rummaged around in her pocket for a while before finally being able to pull out Romanoff's earpiece.

 _Sweet revenge,_ she mused.

"Nico? Barton? Anyone?" she whispered into the device. "Please, come in. I have news."

Like before, her words were first met with static. Her patience endured for a few seconds more, and she was repaid when the familiar voice of Clint Barton spoke to her from the earpiece: _"Lauren? What—you're choppier than usual."_

"Oh, well, that is because I am farther than usual."

A beat of tense silence as the words sunk in, and then, _"Lauren, where the hell are you?"_

"New Mexico."

 _"What? Why?"_

"Tyr says that it is easier to transport from world to world here, because it is closest to the World Tree."

A string of curses came from the other end, making Lauren frown. She thought that the information would make him happy. _"Why didn't you tell us before? Lauren, S.H.I.E.L.D. has tons of agents in that area. I could tell Fury, and we could come get you—"_

"No."

 _"Say that again?"_

"No, Barton, you can't come and rescue me."

He sounded incensed. _"Lauren, what did you do?"_

She would have started yelling just to convince him, but she didn't want to rouse any suspicion from Tyr. The bear hide wouldn't be enough to muffle her shouts. "I did not _do_ anything," she whispered harshly. "I have a plan, Barton, and I plan on sticking to it, with or without your consent."

 _"You don't need_ consent _. You need to_ be here _,"_ he retorted. _"The Hunters are falling apart. They… There's so many dead, Lauren. They can't get through this without you. They need you here. Chiron needs you here. As far away from that bastard as possible."_

As if she didn't need any more reasons to feel guilty. Lauren could feel her heart breaking at the urgency in the agent's voice, and there might have been a hint of desperation in there as well, but she couldn't be sure.

Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she spoke once more into the earpiece as her hands shook. "Clint, tomorrow I will be in New York with the Jotunn general, leading Khione's troops. Tyr has given me the rank of lieutenant."

" _What—"_

"Do _not_ send people after me tonight. And I want you to issue a citywide evacuation. Or at least get the people off of the streets. Khione's army is ruthless, and I will have to be as well. I… I will find a way to kill Orion—this I swear by my life—but I cannot turn on Andleut so early in the battle. I cannot risk it. I need to gain his approval first before I can strike."

 _"Lauren—"_

"Tell Leo to prepare some heavy firepower… and tell Chiron that I am sorry."

 _"We can fix this. Just get back here; I know you can. Just—"_

Lauren planted the device onto the ground and crushed it with the heel of her palm. Silence filled the tent, and her mind whirled with thoughts of what she had to do once the sun rose.

* * *

 **The 9th night has passed. What do you think will come next? Make sure to drop a review! I so love reading them.**


	35. Chapter 34 - Fire and Ice

_A/N: The action starts here! But no need to worry - even after the battle, there are still going to be a few chapters. Still, this story is coming to a close, and I don't know how to feel about it. :/_

* * *

 _Four figures stood in the darkness, illuminated by the rays of Selene; a man wearing an animal pelt, a woman clothed in ice, and two giants that towered over them like mountains over hills. One of them, with bronze eyes, grinned dangerously. Hands entwined with one another's as they bowed their heads, lips moving in an unheard chant to the Earth. And as they finished, a rope made of silver light crawled onto their arms and across their shoulders, binding them with an invisible promise._

* * *

Lauren woke up to someone shaking her. She remembered just where she was. In a flash, she had the Traust sword unsheathed and placed under the jaw of the monster that had woken her up in an instant.

Blinking the sleep out of her eyes, she soon recognized that it was Sage who knelt before her, baring her teeth in defiance and rage.

With a huff, Lauren removed her blade from under the _empousa's_ chin but did not return it into its scabbard. She regarded her with wary eyes, and Sage gladly returned the favor.

"My master is calling for you," said the _empousa_. "He wants to speak with you before we begin the siege."

Lauren frowned and looked past her to the outside of her tent; the sun had barely risen. "So early in the day?"

"He wants to get it over with. The sooner your kind is extinct, the better." Sage must have known that her statement roused Lauren's growing anger, for she cackled and jutted her chin out. "Hurry up, demigod."

Lauren's joints gave several satisfying cracks as she stood up and stretched. She hadn't been supposed to fall asleep the previous night; rather, she didn't want to. But for some reason, as soon as she'd crushed the earpiece, a torrent of exhaustion had swept over her and she reluctantly fell into a deep sleep.

Now that Sage was leading through the camp and letting her gaze at the groundings, she knew that the hours of rest were going to be sorely missed. She had her work cut out for her. Tyr's army had catapults and all manners of wild beasts locked up in cages.

How was Lauren going to sabotage Tyr plan from a world away?

The Norse god was waiting for her at the east border of the encampment, looking out at the emptiness of New Mexico's desert. There was a tent set up beside him, one that wasn't his. The entrance flaps opened up and Lauren froze upon seeing who stepped through.

With his spiked hair, toned body, and height of ten feet, anyone could have mistaken him for an extremely tall supermodel. But Lauren knew better.

She still remembered him from their skirmish in San Juan, where he had killed Phoebe and countless other Hunters and Amazons. His hair had grown back to its original state—given from the amount of time he spent in Tartarus—but the patches of purple and red on his skin were still there. Lauren was certain that they were never going to heal, and with that knowledge came a sense of fulfillment; she had been one of the people to deal those injuries, years ago.

As she and Sage came closer, he eventually caught sight of her. Lauren would've been happy if a look of fear appeared his face, or at least hatred, but he merely flashed his teeth in a smug grin so similar to Tyr's that they could have been brothers.

"So it's true then," said Orion. "One of my sworn enemies has joined my cause. How the mighty have fallen."

A snarl escaped through Lauren's teeth. "Shut up or I'll cut out your tongue."

"Just as feisty as I remember." He must have seen the way her fingers twitched; if he had real eyes, Lauren was certain that they would be sparkling with glee. "You're just itching to get your hands on that sword and cut me open, aren't you?"

"I _can_ kill you."

He only chuckled in response. "And don't I know it."

Of course he did. He'd gained all the secrets of the universe.

Lauren's hand travelled to the hilt of her sword, but before she could pull it out, Tyr was there between her and Orion, keeping them at a respectable distance. "Now, now, children—behave," he scolded, earning a firm glare from Lauren. "I see you remember Orion."

"How can't I? He has killed _dozens_ of us."

"As have I, but we had a deal." Tyr craned his neck down towards her, forcing her to meet his gaze. "You will be respectable towards Orion. That's an order, lieutenant."

Upon hearing her newly acquired title, she straightened up, but didn't let the ferocity fall from her eyes.

Tyr nodded, apparently satisfied. "Good." He gestured towards Sage—who, Lauren noticed, was now holding a full set of armor in her arms. The _empousa_ gave the set to Tyr, who then handed it to Lauren. "Follow Sage to the changing tent and come back here when you've finished. Then, we can talk about battle plans."

After throwing one last vengeful look towards Orion, Lauren followed Sage past rows and rows of tents, until finally they came across one that was tall enough to house someone—or Lauren, at least—who was standing. Sage grunted for her to get in, which she did. A strong odor entered her nose and it was all she could do not to gag. It was obviously a changing tent for monsters.

She hastily changed out of her civilian clothes and into the armor that Tyr had given her, wanting to get out of the tent as quickly as possible. Her Hunter's boots stayed on, but she knew that she didn't deserve to wear them. She didn't even deserve to be called a Hunter.

There didn't seem to be anything wrong with the set. It covered the ugly scar on her neck, too.

After double-checking the straps and knots, and making sure that the inside hadn't been soaked in some sort of poison, she exited the tent and returned to where Tyr and Orion waited for her. She looked at each of them and seared a statement onto her brain: _Stick to the status quo, and make it change in your favor._

It was as good a plan as any.

The briefing lasted for what felt like an hour. Lauren barely listened, only taking mental notes on the information that she deemed important: where Orion would be, and what Tyr's main objective for her was.

"If they're not one of us, kill them," he said, to her and to the army of monsters that was laid out before him. "But if they yield, bring them to me. You are not to harm them. Well, not on purpose."

Lauren glared daggers at the back of his head.

The last minute preparations went by in a blur. One minute, Lauren was watching the monsters scurry about and get everything and everyone in position, and the next, she was standing at the head of the legion, Tyr and Orion at her side.

"I'll be sending you to the outskirts of New York, by a quaint little farmhouse owned by an old man," Tyr quietly muttered to Lauren. Upon seeing her displeased scowl, he chuckled darkly and said, "Just kidding. No one lives there. Not anymore, at least. There, you're to wait for Andleut's signal. He'll know when to march the troops forward."

She nodded and watched as the Norse god turned to face Orion. "I trust you'll make the right decisions to keep us moving in the _right_ direction."

Orion grinned. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

"Alright. Let's get this party started."

Before she could object, Tyr had put his hand on her shoulder and whisked her away from the cool deserts of New Mexico, and into a snowy forest.

The snow and dead leaves crunched under their sudden weight, and Lauren blinked in surprise. She spotted a break in the tree line that gave way to an abandoned, corroded farmhouse, just as Tyr had said. Behind that was an evident view of a plain, where crops were sure to have been planted, but was now empty and lifeless.

Tyr pointed in that direction. "Wait for your army over there," he said, and then glared at her. "You remember our deal?"

"You need not remind me," she replied grudgingly.

"Good. See you tonight."

He smiled, sickeningly sweet, and, with a snap of his fingers, disappeared. Lauren rolled her eyes; she knew that the finger snapping was just for added effect. Soon, however, her anxiety took over and she found herself absent-mindedly walking towards the farmhouse.

She was going to betray Tyr—that much was certain. Die as she might, she wasn't going to die as an enemy of the half-bloods. She was going to eradicate Andleut and his troops, but before that, she was going to have to kill her own kind. How long she would need to do so, she didn't know, but she hoped and prayed, more than anything, that she wouldn't encounter any of the Seven, or any of the Avengers.

She found herself standing in the middle of the empty, decayed farmhouse, boots crunching in the snow with her fingers on a dresser that had long been forgotten.

There was the sound of a thunderclap, and suddenly Lauren wasn't alone.

Standing in the field outside, red eyes glinting maliciously and teeth bared, was the Jotunn army. They wore no armor, only straps of leather that looped over their shoulders, shielding a quarter of their chests, and covered their groins, knees and elbows. White war paint decorated their skin, seeming to trace the marks that were already etched there.

Standing amidst the blue giants were remnants of Khione's army of monsters. She had sent merely a quarter of their original number, leaving the majority to deal with the Romans in San Francisco.

The _empousai_ and _Scythian dracaenae_ wore their usual armor, spears in hand and shields at the ready. Scores of Laistrygonian Giants rocked on their heels in the army of monsters, holding clubs that could easily batter a very large bull.

Lauren was certain that she could hear a faint squawking within the mass, as well as make out a pair of black horns, but amidst the massive, moving crowd, they soon disappeared.

Their numbers were staggering. With row upon row of warriors, Lauren couldn't even see the trees on the other side of the field anymore; a feeling of hopelessness settled onto her shoulders, and she hadn't even seen the entire army yet. Despite her growing fear, she squared her shoulders and held her chin up, forcing a calm air about her.

She stepped out of the house and was almost immediately met by the leader of the Frost Giants, Andleut. She had only ever seen him in a dream, and she seemed much smaller then—but she was determined not to bat an eye, in spite of his towering figure and cold, wicked presence.

The general stared down at her, as if she was a specimen he had just discovered under his foot. "You must be Tyr's second-in-command. Lauren," he said. He had a heavy brogue in his voice, and the sound of her name on his tongue sounded so odd that a shudder ran down her spine. "I am Andleut, son of Laufey, and leader of the Jotunns."

"I suppose there should be no more introductions on my part, considering you already know my name." Lauren regarded him with calculating eyes, measured the chances of beating him in a fight and found that, yes, she could. "We will be fighting together, then."

"Fight together, we will, but lead together, we will not," he replied gruffly.

"And why is that?"

"We Jotnar choose our leaders differently than Midgardians; we fight for the throne, and sometimes, the fights last many moons. We do not sit around and take votes." He pounded his chest and flared his nostrils. "To share my duties as general and king would be the height of dishonor."

Lauren narrowed her eyes. It seemed Tyr hadn't thoroughly explained the details of his plan with her. She should have known better. Why would Tyr let her, someone he barely trusted, lead his army into battle? It was madness, but it seemed that he wasn't as mad as she had once thought.

Reluctantly, Lauren bowed her head in a half-hearted show of respect. "Very well," she said. "Explain your plan to me and I will carry it out as cleanly as I possibly can."

A low rumble sounded from behind them, and she turned around to find the nearest Jotunns' teeth bared, the corners of their lips pulled upwards. Were they… laughing? She returned her attention to Andleut and found the same expression on his face.

"This is war, daughter of Apollo," he said. "There is no plan, only the _klinge_ of death."

"Kill everything in sight. That is your plan?" She raised an eyebrow. "Will you not even divide yourselves into units, so as to cover more ground?"

He flared his nostrils again. "That has already been done. You are in the second unit, the second line of attack. I will be in the first."

That meant that they were going to be separated, one way or another. She would just have to find him again, then, when it was time for her to switch sides. It was better for them to be separated from the start, she supposed; it would be easier for her to hold back in the fighting without him constantly yelling into her ear.

"Alright then. Attack on sight." She nodded briskly. "Anything else?"

Just as the words escaped her mouth, thunder rumbled in the distance, and a streak of dull yellow light blinked into existence, just behind the clouds that so thickly covered the sun. Its appearance was followed by the sound of a war horn being blown, and Lauren was certain that it had not been blown by any Frost Giant.

Andleut showed his teeth in an intimidating representation of a grin and said, "Show no mercy," before turning to his army and raising his mace. He uttered a series of guttural sounds, and the Frost Giants replied, quickly followed by the drawn-out, spine-tingling battle cry of Khione's monsters.

And then they were barreling past the farmhouse, down the short dirt path and onto the concrete road. From the corner of her eye, she saw the green sign that read, "WELCOME TO NEW YORK, The Empire State". They passed by it in a blur, and she was hardly able to comprehend the words.

Due to her allies' longer strides, she was soon lagging behind. She eventually found herself running in the middle of the second unit. All around her were monsters covered in sweat; they smelled like a sewage canal, but Lauren was fairly certain that she smelled the same.

The ground shook under the multitude of giants, barely stilling as Lauren struggled to keep in step with her unit. The noisy stomping of heavy feet created a raucous cacophony that eerily resembled the beat created by drums of war; Lauren couldn't help but to feel the momentousness of it all.

Everything came down to this. The final battle. Either Midgard and Asgard would fall, or they wouldn't. There was to be no in-between. Too much was at stake.

To Lauren's dismay, the buildings of New York came into view, and they were closing the distance quicker than she'd hoped. The structures looked empty, so the government had most likely evacuated the people underground. It was impressive, to say the least, to have emptied an entire city in less than twenty-four hours.

One of the perks of being S.H.I.E.L.D., she supposed.

Barricades had been placed at where the borders of the city seemed to start. They went around as far as she could see. Cement blocks, traffic cones, anything that could be read as a sign that said, "Monsters are not welcome."

Sadly, Andleut didn't seem to care.

Still at the very head of the army, he drew his weapon back and, with a bellow like thunder, broke a portion of the wall of cement blocks. Large rock fragments flew in every direction. His army followed Andleut's lead and thundered past the barricades, breaking them with their maces and clubs. Their bloodlust grew with the noise.

Only Lauren seemed hesitant with the advance. Something was off.

Apart from the ruckus that the monsters were causing, everything was silent. She knew that Chiron's forces should have intercepted them by now, if they didn't want the monsters reaching Camp. And yet, there were no demigods to be seen. Not the sickly green of the Hulk, the gold and red armor of Iron Man, the black suits of Romanoff and Barton, or the blue and silver shield of Captain America.

Where were they?

Her question was answered when she noticed a sliver of movement behind the glass wall of one of the nearby buildings. A flash of dark brown hair was all she saw before her attention was caught by a rapid beeping noise. Faint and out of place, but undoubtedly present; continuous, and then it was accompanied by another, and another, and another.

Her stomach dropped. She remembered the traps that she had seen in her dream, the ones the Hephaestus cabin had been making. Instinctively, she grabbed the arm of a passing _dracaena_ and pulled her in front of her.

The monster was hissing bloody murder when the first bomb went off.

Accompanying the initial explosion were the telltale sounds of sharp objects whistling through the air. A dozen or so monsters fell to the ground, the flesh on their faces and abdomens embedded with bronze shards.

A second bomb detonated; Lauren was shocked at how close it was to her position.

Her ears rang. The _dracaena_ in front of her froze completely, and Lauren followed her in her collapse. She landed in a heap beside several other fallen monsters. The bombs continued exploding, and so she pulled her legs inwards, shielding both her heels from any debris.

Probably a minute passed before the explosions finally ceased. Lauren raised her head and found the entirety of the first, second and third units on the ground, either dead or severely injured. She couldn't see Andleut among the bodies, but she supposed that it would indeed be too much for her to hope that he was dead as well.

Tilting her head, she watched as the remaining of the army—still considerably large in number—approached with more caution. They carefully stepped over the bodies, often snarling when they recognized the faces of those on the ground. Not one of them gave her a second glance.

Perhaps a dozen columns of warriors passed before Chiron's next attack came: arrows rained from the sky, coming in sheets. Some of them missed their targets; most of them had been aimed to kill. Lauren, invulnerable to the attacks because of the Styx's blessing, watched as the monsters all around her fell beneath the assault.

When the archers stopped, a horn was blown—smooth and clear and announcing an ambush. The Hunters' horn.

Lauren couldn't see much of what happened next. The bodies layered around her proved to be too thick. But she was able to hear the sudden rush of footsteps, ushered in by the rallying cries of dozens of demigods.

A more savage roar answered them, though it was not any Jotunn's. It sounded almost like a…

 _Damn,_ Lauren cursed inwardly. She shoved the _dracaena's_ corpse off of her body and pushed herself up on her elbows.

The sea of Frost Giants and monsters had parted, revealing the bullhead of the Minotaur. Its horns were as black as night; its eyes reflected the want for death. It charged forward and intercepted the first line of demigods, instantly killing at least six of them. And with their deaths, Andleut's forces rallied behind the Minotaur and began their attack.

Just like that, the battle had begun.

Lauren gathered her wits about her and got to her feet.

Andleut's army was advancing rather quickly, thanks to the Minotaur, but demigods were pouring out of the buildings and onto the streets. Dozens of them joined the fight. Lauren was surprised at how many of them there were. She saw many familiar faces, yet there were many new ones as well. Her heart clenched.

Reluctantly, she unsheathed her sword and eyed the scene before her, where her sins would reach their conclusion.

She had to fight. If she didn't and Tyr found out… Everyone she loved would die a painful death. She couldn't let that happen. Not after Jill, Aria, Kali, and Ethan.

A demigod and an _empousa_ stumbled in front of her, battling it out. The demigod ultimately won, burying his sword into the monster's gut. As it turned to dust, he noticed her out of the corner of his eye, and froze. His expression was one of both surprise and fear.

But behind him, there was a Frost Giant who was staring expectedly at Lauren, lips drawn into a fierce scowl. Pursing her lips, Lauren raised her blade.

She made sure to give the demigod enough time to defend himself, but it was for naught. Despite her weak blow, she was still able to overpower him. (For a split second, it occurred to her that he might have been one of the new recruits. Young and inexperienced.)

She was forced to stab him in the gut. Before he fell, she caught him and muttered into his ear, "I'm sorry." Not that it would null her sins, but she was willing to try.

The Jotunn who had been watching her seemed satisfied. He grunted before turning around and returning to the fight. Before she could stop and ponder on what she'd done, Lauren followed suit.

Time passed more quickly after that.

The music of metal colliding with metal was coming from every direction now. The sight of controlled chaos, so often seen in the life of a demigod, greeted Lauren as she entered the fray. Under normal circumstances, she barely would have batted an eye. But this was different.

She didn't allow herself to think twice before dispatching with another demigod, and then another, and then another. She made sure that the Camp saw her as an enemy, no longer a friend. She would rather have them fight her than see the hope that sparked in their eyes whenever they saw her.

Her outwardly cold demeanor helped turn the Greeks against her. Before she knew it, all of them were out for her head. It made it easier for her to do what had to be done. She fought them with the grace and tenacity that she'd been taught to use all her life. Coupled with the Styx's blessing, along with Artemis', the campers were no match for her.

Left and right, they fell by her sword.

She didn't hold back; it wouldn't have helped in any way. She would still be killing them, in the end. But she advanced slower than the rest of the army. Walking between skirmishes while she did her best to forget the faces of those she had killed. Andleut's unit system had failed, due to the bombs. The city of New York was in complete and utter chaos.

With every kill, the Traust sword grew heavier in her hand. She wanted to stop fighting, but the Frost Giants were watching her like hawks. Waiting for her to make the wrong move. She was forced to keep in blows with the half-bloods, yet she made sure to kill them quickly and painlessly.

Once, she caught sight of Leo and Piper fighting alongside each other a few meters away from where she was. She quickly turned a corner and headed west from them, putting as much distance as possible between them and her.

An hour must have passed before any sign of the Avengers presented itself.

At the top of one of the skyscrapers, Lauren saw the Hulk step up to the very edge of the building. He released a mighty roar before jumping down and joining the fight. As he fell, a familiar suit of red and gold flew downwards from the rooftop.

Stark had his metal arms wrapped around a figure dressed in black and purple. They were heading straight for Lauren.

Cursing, she finished off the demigod that had been giving her some trouble, and turned the opposite direction, away from the two Avengers. She weaved her way through the combating groups and ran into a building. Iron Man wouldn't be able to chase her through there, not without difficulty. It was his companion that she was more afraid to meet, though.

She'd been hoping for Stark to assume that she'd go to the back exit of the building, and that they would go there. But when she doubled back to the main entrance, she found that he had just landed, alongside Agent Barton.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Lauren made sure to maintain her cool façade, made it thick, because she knew that Barton was especially gifted at knowing what she was thinking. It was difficult to figure out what Tony felt, underneath the mask. He hadn't attacked her yet, so that was something.

The look on Clint's face was one of cold acceptance. His bow was in hand, empty, but she could imagine that his hand was just itching to nock an arrow and shoot her in the face. He had to be angry with her. With the blood practically dripping from her sword, how couldn't he be?

Interrupting their silence, Stark said in his taciturn, metallic voice, "Make it quick." Then he shot into the air and flew away, eliminating the several Frost Giants and monsters he encountered along the way, and leaving Clint and Lauren alone among the mayhem that surrounded them.

"You should not be here," said Lauren.

"Neither should you," he replied.

That wasn't true. She was the one with the right to be there, not him. She was the demigod; he was just some human who was especially gifted with a bow. She was the one who had lost so many people; whom had he lost in the war that Tyr had started?

She wanted to badly to be angry with him, yet when she spoke, not an ounce of conviction could be heard in her voice—at least, to her ears.

"You'll die here," she said. "If not today, then tomorrow, or the next day. Tyr wants you dead… and so do I."

"We both know that that's a lie," he said in a stoic manner.

"It's the truth." To further prove her point, she hefted her sword up a little, grimacing a bit at how heavy it had gotten. "And we both know that you cannot beat me in a sword fight."

He was quiet for a moment, frowning. "So he brainwashed you. Is that it?"

With a forced look of anger, she lashed out at him with the Traust sword. She made her movements sluggish, so he would be able to evade her attack with ease. But she hadn't been expecting him to pull out a gun from behind him, where there must have been a holster. He pointed it at her.

Hiding her surprise, she just shook her head. "That will not work on me."

"No." He shrugged. "But it'll hurt like hell."

Lauren couldn't have evaded it even if she tried. Dodging arrows was one thing. A bullet was too fast.

There was the crash of lightning, and she found herself stumbling backwards, reeling from the flash of pain that erupted in her stomach. Gasping, she looked down.

Tyr's armor may have been built to withstand the blows of a sword, but not the likes of a pointed, iron cylinder travelling in the speed of a bullet train. There was an obvious dent and a hole in the hard material, but there was no blood.

Indignant, Lauren raised her head and was about to yell at her shooter when he suddenly tackled her to the ground.

All at once, the two of them were engaged in a savage brawl. Clint made sure to get her sword out of her hand. Try as she might, he was much better at using his bare hands for fighting than she was. She tried to get an arrow from over her shoulder but he quickly pinned her to the ground, hands gripping her wrists and legs straddling her waist.

"Let me go," she snapped at his face. "LET ME GO!"

"I don't have time for you right now, kid," he said through gritted teeth; the given nickname only drove her further into anger. "Just cooperate and we'll get you somewhere safe."

"I need to fight!"

"You're clearly not in your right mind. We can end this, but you need to get out—"

"No, _you_ need to get out."

"Why? Why do I need to?"

"He will kill you!" She renewed her thrashing. "Just like he killed Jill, and Kali, and Aria, and Ethan, and those people in New Orleans…"

Understanding flashed across his face. "How many?"

She just shook her head and pressed on. "Please, just leave. Leave the city and take as many civilians as possible. Regroup with Fury. He'll know what to do—"

"Lauren, I can't leave."

"You _have_ to—"

"They have Tasha." His words startled her into silence. "I can't leave without her. I won't."

That couldn't be true. Natasha Romanoff was a master assassin— _the_ master assassin. "Who took her?" Lauren asked, the shock evident in her voice.

"Some Frost Giant. There are literally hundreds of them out there. I don't know how to find her."

But she did.

Acting purely on instinct, she brought her right leg up and kneed the small of his back. The blow must have been harder than she realized, for Barton uttered a low keen as his grip on her wrists loosened.

She pulled free and shoved him off, delivering a hard blow to his face as well for extra measure.

While he struggled to compose himself on his hands and knees, she scrambled to get her sword. Once it was in her hand again, she gave Barton two large cuts—one on his upper leg and one on his hip—though she made sure that the blade didn't cut through anything important.

"Stay down," she said. He lay on the ground, glaring at her in pain and frustration. "When I am gone, I want you to get to the nearest building and stay there until you are sure that you can fight."

He only grunted in reply.

Guilt flooded her stomach, and she placed a hand on his arm, squeezing. "I will find her, Clint. And I will fix everything. I promise."

Before he could regain his senses, she was running down the street, sword drawn but no longer cutting down any of the demigods. She held only one objective in mind at the moment: kill Andleut.

Then, perhaps, she would be able to think of a plan for the more complicated parts.

* * *

 _"klinge" - German for "blade"_

 _Also, HUGE shoutout to Anonymous reviewer (you know who you are) for just being the most awesome reader ever. Lots of love~_


	36. Chapter 35 - New York, New York

_I felt like updating so I diiiid._

 _Also, it felt wrong to stop with the ending of that last update. The ending of this one offers more closure, I think. :)_

 _P.S. Have any of you seen the trailer for "A Monster Calls"? It looks so good. [cries]_

* * *

As soon as she was far enough away from Barton's position, she stopped to catch her breath. Andleut was still nowhere to be seen, and she was starting to become desperate. Where could he possibly be?

Zoning out the chaos surrounding her, she took a deep breath, and gathered her thoughts.

If she couldn't find him, then he would have to come to her. The only way to make that happen was to catch his attention. Killing his brethren wasn't going to work; there were dozens of demigods already on the job. A mass killing, then—one that would shock the Jotunns so much that they'd end up running back to Andleut and relaying the events to him.

It could work. She didn't know exactly how she was going to pull it off, but it was a plan.

About to take a shortcut to Central Park, she suddenly caught signs of movement within the seemingly empty building beside her. Through the glass walls, she saw a black figure the size of a cement truck hurtling through the building and towards her.

Hastily shifting her feet, she dove out of harm's way and landed hard on the concrete as the figure broke past the glass wall. It was followed by something large, something green.

Bruce Banner issued a loud roar directed at the monster that Lauren had just realized was the Minotaur. He barreled forward once more and pounded his fists down on the hellish monster.

The Minotaur turned to dust mere seconds afterwards. Lauren struggled to her feet, finally noticing just how much of a hammering her body had taken in the hours that had passed. She froze when the Hulk turned to her, nostrils flared and pupils dilated as he fought to figure out whether she was an enemy or not.

Warily, she raised her hands, palms outwards, but said nothing. She thought that her voice might not be the most calming sound in the world, especially to someone like Bruce Banner.

After a few seconds, the Hulk grunted—with exasperation or acceptance, she couldn't tell—and bounded away from her, looking for his next prey.

She turned around and regarded the hole in the building that the Minotaur had produced. Shrugging, she jogged through it and into the structure, fighting past the haze that had settled over her vision. She needed ambrosia, fast, but she knew that she wasn't getting any—not any time soon.

Central Park was teeming with action. Golden dust, blood and gore covered the snow on the ground. Monsters littered the area with very little demigods to keep them at bay.

A glimmer of hope sparked in Lauren as she switched her gaze to the secret entrance into the Underworld. But it remained closed; it seemed that Hades, despite the rarity of the act, had agreed to what Zeus wanted him to do. No help was coming from him.

She gripped the Traust sword tighter and opened herself to its power, drawing from its infinite energy reserve. Warmth immediately touched her veins and flooded into her muscles, but not as much as she'd hoped. And the sword wasn't buzzing with life in her hand like it used to. Was it just her or had it… closed itself off, somehow?

She didn't have time to think about it. All she knew was that it was time for her to turn the tides—or, rather, to turn against the tides.

Putting on a brave face, she approached the nearest Frost Giant, a large one that was bearing down on one of Chiron's younger recruits, and raised her sword.

She was just about to cut him down when a line of red blurred into view.

Tony's momentum sent her skidding across the snow, all the way to the frozen pond. Her skin felt like it was being peeled off, partly because of the friction and partly because of the cold. Miraculously, her sword stayed in her hand. Her spine ached from the beating it had taken from the base of her bow and quiver, and she grimaced in pain.

A low whirring noise reached her ears. With bleary eyes, she raised her head and looked at Iron Man with as much hate as she could muster. He had his palms aimed at her, the round white lights causing her head to hurt.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," said Tony.

"I can only imagine," she threw back. "You do not hide your disdain very well, Mr. Stark."

"Oh, are we gonna be polite now? Like we're new friends sharing toys in a sandbox? Well, let me tell you, the sandbox has gone to _shit_." The usual smugness in his voice was gone, replaced by something incredibly close to anger, and perhaps even a bit of panic. "Where's Legolas? I thought I told him to take care of you."

Slowly, carefully, she picked herself up and got into a more respectable stance. "He should be somewhere along Columbus Avenue."

"With or without a beating heart?"

"And here I thought that you only cared about yourself." Lauren regarded him with new interest, but remained alert for anything else that he could surprise her with. "He is alive, if not worse for wear."

A beat passed before Tony dropped his hands. Lauren stayed vigilant—if not for his attack, then an attack by a random Frost Giant. Surely any of them had enough brains to figure out that her current position with Iron Man wasn't exactly one that screamed 'hostile'.

His facemask slid down, revealing his eyes and the warring emotions inside him: confusion, anger, desperation, exhaustion. "Whose side are you on, kid?"

Lauren sighed and made up her mind. "Yours."

"Prove it."

Without saying anything else, he raised his hands again but aimed elsewhere. Lauren understood what he wanted from her. She was reluctant, incredibly so, but it was the right thing to do. Even if it would most likely get her killed.

Steeling herself, she reached over her shoulder, pulled an arrow from her quiver, and threw it at a nearby _empousa_. It turned to dust as soon as her arrow hit.

"Don't stop there, Katniss," Stark suddenly called to her. "I want this whole park cleared before that Khione bitch can say 'icicle'."

Lauren sheathed the Traust sword and got her bow in hand. With it, she killed five Jotunns in quick succession. The remaining of them turned their heads and snapped their teeth, once they saw who had begun the killing spree on their brethren. She bared her teeth in return and shot them down as well.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed a _dracaena_ slithering away. _Good. Let her run,_ she thought. The sooner Andleut found out, the sooner Lauren could kill him.

Monsters all around her fell beneath the swiftness of her arrows and the force of Iron Man's energy blasts. She and him might have been enemies before, and some part of her still saw him as that, but the both of them had somehow been able to see past that.

Before she knew it, Central Park was barren of all monsters. Dust and bodies littered the ground. Lauren glared at them and waited for Stark to break the grim stillness, which, she was sure, he definitely would.

"What now, Lieutenant Crazy?" he deadpanned, sliding his facemask up again. "Should we go find your boyfriend so the two of you can sail off into the sunset?"

She shook her head. "No. I have to find someone else first."

"Who's that?"

"The Black Widow."

"Ah, that…" A look of surprise crossed his face. He then pointed at her. "Wait, you _care_?"

She scowled. "I am not heartless."

"Yeah, right. Anyway, you mind telling me your master plan before we go looking for her?"

"There is not much to it." She sighed. "I just have to find Andleut. I am sure that he has her."

"Andleut… The leader of the blue guys?" When she nodded, he scoffed and returned his facemask to its original position. "Why didn't you tell me before? Thor's been keeping him occupied while we were taking down his goons."

Lauren squared her shoulders. "Where?"

Holding out a hand, he said, "I'll take you there." Lauren glared at the proffered hand for a good moment before returning her gaze to his head, raising her eyebrows. She had the feeling that he rolled his eyes upon seeing her expression. "Unless you plan on walking, I'm your only way of transportation. Don't worry, I won't bite very hard."

"It is not you I am afraid of." Hesitant, she took his cold, robotic arm, and allowed him to pull her against his chest. "After all I've done, I thought you would be more suspicious of me. I have not exactly done much to gain your trust."

"No, but Clint trusts you. Even after he saw you killing all those kids, he never thought twice about you being brainwashed." Stark glanced down at her. "Though personally, I think you being brainwashed would have been easier to deal with. Much less complicated."

A half-hearted smirk touched her lips. "Sorry to disappoint."

"Forget about it. As long as you don't stab me in the back, we're cool."

Before she could issue a witty retort, Stark had activated his thrusters and sent them blasting off the ground.

Barely holding back a cry of surprise, she instinctively latched onto Stark's shoulder, gripping the hard metal in order to steady herself. He might have chuckled, but the sound of it was lost to the wind roaring in her ears. Stark had his helmet, while she had nothing to shield her against the invisible rapids.

"I forgot to ask," she yelled in order to be heard over the wind. "Did you close off all the bridges leading out of Manhattan?"

"It was the first thing to go," Stark replied. "We got a bunch of people waiting there and in San Fran with some of the biggest guns I've ever seen. And a few back-up bombs, in case things get too bad. They see something weird, they shoot."

"But they cannot see past the Mist."

"We got that covered too. Stop worrying about that. Fury's not chopped liver, kid. How'd you get into the city anyway?"

"Tyr can teleport."

"So he can teleport an entire army to the center of the country right now if he really wanted to."

"If he wanted to, yes. But I do not think he does. I think he wants to take over Asgard first, along with the two demigod bases in the country, before expanding his conquest. He does not give the Avengers much credit." She cleared her throat. "Which is why someone has to kill him before anything happens."

"Didn't Chiron send a bunch of his kids to deal with him?"

She said nothing in reply. Truthfully, she had nearly forgotten about all of that. The line in the prophecy stating that the children of the Big Three could keep Asgard from falling. Percy, Jason, Nico, Proteus, Hephaestus, and Nico's godly counterpart—she was sure that they could defeat Khione, with a bit of quick thinking.

But Tyr… He was a Norse god; she didn't know what to expect from him.

Lightning crackled ahead of them. Lauren stared hard into the clouds, and cursed when she saw a group of _venti_ heading in their direction.

"How many?" Stark asked.

"Too many," she said. "Can you outfly them?"

"Depends how fast they can get. I'll just try to lose them for now. You think you can kill 'em?"

Lauren scoffed. "No, not while I am in this position."

She heard him mutter a curse before banking sharply, narrowly avoiding a building's corner. She shifted in his arms so she could see over his shoulder. He had flown past the dark clouds, and was struggling to maneuver them away from the _venti_.

In the midst of his wild twists and turns, Lauren caught sight of a circle emptied of any monsters; only two giants stood in it, one wielding a hammer, and one wielding a massive mace.

Suddenly, she was struck with an idea. "Thor can control thunder, right?"

"Will that work?"

"These things are manifestations of a storm. It is worth a try."

"Alright. Hold on, princess."

Lauren took it as a figure of speech, at first. But then Stark removed his hands from her waist and turned them upside-down while he turned a corner. She would have fallen if he hadn't grabbed her wrist in time.

"Lauren, what the hell?" he yelled.

Instead of holding her against his chest like he had before, he pulled her onto his back, where she was forced to wrap her arms around his neck. But that left her feet completely exposed to the _venti_ 's attacks.

"No!" she exclaimed. "You have to get away from them. Now!"

"What's your deal? They aren't even attacking yet—"

A bolt of lightning shot over their heads, singeing the strands of hair that could have been sticking up from the top of Lauren's head.

"Stark," she warned.

"Yeah yeah."

He sped up, and Lauren had to press her forehead against his shoulder so that she wouldn't get whiplash from their breakneck speed. She kept her ankles bent at an odd angle in the hopes that no debris would get to them. Hopefully the _venti_ would just think that she was tense.

Stark veered upwards; they climbed the length of a building. Lauren started panicking. "What are you doing?" she said.

"Improvising."

They were just nearing the top of the building when, suddenly, Stark pulled back and sent them hurtling back down towards the ground. A great mass of darkness passed over Lauren's head, making her close her eyes as the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. There was a yell stuck in her throat, and it came out in a single burst when Stark pulled up. Her neck snapped forward.

She groaned at the sudden pain on her forehead.

"Sorry," Stark said. "You okay?"

"Just don't do that again." She blinked her eyes open. "WATCH OUT!"

She tugged on his shoulders the same time he steered right, barely avoiding a human that had been standing in the middle of the road. But in doing so, they ended up blasting through the concrete wall of some building.

Lauren didn't even feel the pain from the impact anymore. She just felt immensely tired. Gingerly, she pushed the rubble away from her and got to her feet. She eyed the mess surrounding her with weary eyes.

Moments later, Tony sprang up from the rubble, his suit harboring many dents and scratches, but otherwise no worse for wear. His facemask slid up.

"Jesus," he said. "What stopped us?"

"A civilian," replied Lauren. "I thought all of them had been evacuated?"

"They were."

Frowning, she stepped over the piles of cement and out into the street. Recognition dawned on her. They were in Times Square. Usually, it would be filled with people walking to get into the cinema or one of the many eateries.

Lauren found herself staring, dumbfounded at the scene before her, because the square was supposed to be empty, and it wasn't. It was filled with people. Demigods, actually. With their swords drawn and bodies poised for battle. But they were still.

Each and every one of them, still as statues.

"What in Hades?" Lauren touched one of them and found that he was stone cold. Then, she placed two fingers below his jaw, and found a pulse—still alive, but cold, pale and unseeing.

"Lauren?"

The slight shock in Stark's voice was enough to make her turn around. He stood a few feet away from her, facemask pulled up and eyes gazing fearfully at the frozen body of Natasha Romanoff.

"Is she… you know…?" He imitated the motion of a throat being slit.

Lauren shook her head firmly. "Only petrified."

"You mean Tyr hired Medusa too?"

"No. This was not Medusa," she murmured. "This was something bigger."

"Bigger?"

A loud squawk sounded from above them, echoing around the square.

Tony took a startled step back. A shadow appeared on the concrete, a large mass with two wide appendages sticking out from its sides. It was getting bigger. Another squawk came and Lauren finally broke free from her stupor.

"Carry her," she hissed. "It is circling, and we are too vulnerable here. We have to get back. There." She pointed to the building they had just come out from and gestured for him to follow.

He was just about to lift Romanoff when the shadow adjusted its trajectory.

It landed on top of Stark. Its talons closed around his shoulders. It ducked its head.

"Close your eyes!" Lauren screamed. "Don't look at it!"

Stark squeezed his eyes shut. Aiming his palms at the beast, he blasted it off of him. It cried out before taking to the air, circling again.

"What the hell is that thing?" Stark shouted.

"The Basilisk!" said Lauren. She had never seen it before. It had been killed only once before, many years ago, and it hadn't been seen since. Many believed that it would never return. Orion must have searched in the deepest parts of Tartarus to find it. "You have to get Romanoff away from here. Somewhere safe."

Awkwardly, Tony lifted Natasha into his arms. She was frozen in position, so her arms were stretched out and her head tilted away from Stark. Lauren only hoped that he wouldn't drop her.

"What about you?" he said.

"Come back for me," she said. "Whether or not the creature is dead."

He nodded before blasting into the air. Lauren looked up just enough to see the Basilisk from underneath. It was truly horrifying to behold. It had the head and legs of a rooster, the tail of a snake, and the body of a bird. Its wings were like those of a dragon, and it had spikes sticking out from its spine.

It made a move to follow Stark. Quickly, Lauren nocked an arrow and shot it at the creature's belly. The arrow merely bounced off of it. It must have had some sort of scaly armor, reminding her too much of the giant scorpion in Crete that she had to scowl.

She had gotten the creature's attention, though. The Basilisk screeched, gaze switching to Lauren. She peeled her eyes away and ducked behind a car. From what she remembered, it wasn't supposed to have the best eyesight. She tried to think of how she could use that to her advantage.

 _Speed,_ she thought.

She grabbed a handful of snow, made it compact, sprung up from her hiding spot, and threw the snowball at the Basilisk. It was messy aiming at best. She was hoping to strike it in the face, but she'd take what she got.

When the snowball hit, Lauren hopped over the car and charged at it. She swiped at its wing with her sword and managed to cut through the sinew. Maneuvering underneath it as it thrashed around, tried to see where she was, she swung again and injured its other wing.

At least it wouldn't be able to fly anymore.

Lauren sprinted away and bent her legs so she could skid underneath a truck. Suddenly, something wrapped around her ankle. Surprised, her grip on her sword loosened and it slipped out of her hand, skidding far out of her reach.

Grunting, she reached down and tried to unwrap the Basilisk's tail from her ankle, to no avail. It pulled her until she was directly beneath it. She squeezed her eyes shut as it ducked its head and shrieked at her face. Saliva flew out of its mouth and onto her skin. She felt its boiling heat prickle her but not wound her.

But petrification would still work, she knew.

She turned her head away, disgusted at the foul odor that streamed from its mouth. She couldn't believe that it was the last thing she was going to smell before she died. _So much for saving the world._

Then, the familiar sound of Tony's blasters reached her ears, and she sighed in relief. The menacing bird on top of her moved off, and she quickly got to her feet, opened her eyes to find Stark flying towards her, hand outstretched.

She held her arm out, he grabbed it, and then her feet were off the ground.

He had his hands under her upper arms, and he didn't seem to be changing their positions any time soon. "How do we kill it?" he asked, right down to business, which rarely ever happened.

"My arrows cannot pierce through its body. Its scales are hard as armor."

"Have you tried its eyes? Be pretty ironic, don't you think?"

She pointed at a skyscraper not far from their position and said, "Get us out of view first. Confuse it. Then double back. Get me on its head."

He flew behind the skyscraper and waited there for a few moments. Both of them held their breaths. Then, when the feeling of momentousness settled on Lauren, she gave Stark the go signal. They backtracked and kept low, so the Basilisk wouldn't easily see them.

Once they were behind it, Stark flew higher, steadily increasing their altitude until they were directly above the Basilisk. Lauren squeezed her hand into a fist.

She felt Stark's hands let go of her arms, and then she was falling.

As the wind came up to meet her, buffeting her face and sending her hair into disarray, she reached behind her and pulled two arrows from her quiver. Instinctively, she adjusted her position in the air a bit. Turned her feet so that they were parallel with each other.

The Basilisk was gazing up at the sky, attention trained on Stark, who was almost teasing it with how easily he travelled through the air.

All at once, Lauren stopped falling. The light feeling in her stomach disappeared, travelling to her head and threatening to invade her senses. Her feet landed square on the Basilisk's neck, and her velocity pushed it down onto the ground. It released a surprised, strangled cry.

Nostrils flared, Lauren brought her arrows down and buried each of them into the monster's eyes.

They were the first to go, turning to golden dust. And so went the rest of its body until Lauren was standing in a pile of it, buried up to her ankles. Slowly, she returned the arrows to her quiver while her body quaked in exhaustion.

Her legs wobbled beneath her. Suddenly, Tony was there to keep her from falling. "Woah, hey, what's going on?"

The metallic grind to his words made her head hurt.

"Shut up," she gritted out.

"What?"

"Your voice," she snapped. "It hurts."

"And your lips," he retorted, "are white. You need to sit down."

She stopped arguing with him. It was too tiring. And hadn't Nico mentioned something like this? That despite being invincible, she would still bear the weight of all the hits she took, as well as the exhaustion of doing everything she had done?

Carefully, she set herself down on the snow and said to Stark, "Ambrosia."

"That golden bread you guys are so addicted to?"

She nodded.

"Where can I get some?"

She wasn't able to answer. The black spots were closing in on her vision, and it was taking all of her concentration not to stop breathing right then and there. Her cheek hit something cold.

Then she felt something tug on her chin, open her mouth. Before she could feel the chilly air enter her lips, something warm and delicious was being stuffed into her mouth. The same thing that tugged on her chin was now pushing it up and down.

Somewhat unconsciously, she swallowed the warm food, felt it travel down her throat and into her stomach. Nothing happened.

Another piece of food, and the manual process was repeated. The effects were slow to appear, but eventually, they did. Some semblance of strength returned to her limbs. Her mind cleared; she was able to recognize the taste of roasted boar, as well as the feeling of something hard and cold squeezing her chin.

"Come on, Sleeping Beauty. I know you're still there. It'd be pretty anti-climactic if you died like this, huh?"

Her eyes fluttered open, and she was immediately met with the sight of Stark's bearded face gazing down at her, and… was that concern in his eyes? She chocked it down to a hallucination branching from the fatigue.

Eventually, he pulled away, but held something out for her to take. She looked down and found that it was half a bar of ambrosia.

"That thing is miracle food, I'm telling you," he said. "You guys should really consider selling to me. I could cure cancer."

"You would only make it worse," she replied, her voice still weak. "Where did you find it?"

"It was in the pocket of one of those guys." He jutted his chin out towards the petrified demigods. "I think all of them have one. That centaur dude must be behind it."

Lauren thought so, too. Chiron must have known that victory would be hard-fought; surrendering due to exhaustion was not an option. She took half the bar of ambrosia from Stark and, once she was sure that her temperature was normal, took a moderate bite before stuffing it into her pocket.

"We should get to Thor," she said. "He might need help finishing up with the general."

Tony regarded her with distrusting eyes. "You sure you don't wanna sit down for a bit? Take a few more bites of that Magic Bread?"

"I am sure." As she spoke, she gingerly walked over to where the Traust sword lay. She drew from its power reserves, just enough to steady herself. "The sooner we get all of this over with, the better—"

She was cut off by a loud crash. Flinching into a defensive position, her eyes moved to where the noise came from.

Thor stood there in his red cape and Asgardian armor. The concrete beneath his feet was cracked from the force of his landing. He had a cut above his eyebrow, his lip was torn, and the knuckles on his right hand were bleeding. Lauren was quite surprised when he mustered up the strength to flash a grin.

"Andleut has been dealt with," he said. "I saw the Basilisk circling the skies just minutes ago. Tell me where it is so I may kill it and bring honor to the Aesir."

"It's already dead, Point Break," Stark answered. "We killed it."

"Oh." Thor's spirits dampened somewhat, but his presence remained as intimidating as ever.

Lauren frowned. "Why did you want to kill it?"

"It is one of the oldest monsters that have ever lived. Its legend has captivated my people for generations. They say that whoever kills it when it returns shall take on its ability to petrify any being that looks at him." The thunder god looked at her with disappointed eyes. "And it seems that such an ability has fallen to you."

She was fairly certain that she hadn't just gained the power to petrify people with her stare alone. The Asgardians must have been mistakenly informed about just what a "Spoil of War" was.

Exasperated, she leaned down and tore a scrap of cloth from the end of Thor's cape. Ignoring his stare of confusion, she walked over to the Basilisk's monster dust and dug into the pile.

Her finger came across something hard and round. Careful not to look at it, and keeping it out of sight from either Tony or Thor, she placed it in the red scrap and tied it off with a knot. It was the size of her palm.

"Here." She tossed the thing to Thor. "It is the Basilisk's eye. A Spoil of War, as we demigods like to call them. As you said, it should be able to petrify anything or anyone you point it at."

Thor seemed at a loss for words. "And… you're giving it to me?"

She nodded. "You may do with it whatever you wish."

With a look of intense pride in his eyes, he clutched the eye to his chest and bowed. "You have my deepest gratitude, Lady Hunter," he said. "I will guard it with my life, and I will use it only for the good of the many. As you would do."

His trust in her was flattering, if not sorely misplaced. Clearing her throat, she hastily changed the topic. "Andleut is dead, then?"

Thor straightened. "Yes, I… I think."

"What do you mean 'you think'?" Tony interjected. "Did you bash his head in with Mewmew or not?"

"I did. I watched his lifeblood drain out of him. But when he died… something streamed out of his body. Wisps of dark smoke. There was energy in it, yet it was so weak that I almost didn't feel it."

"It was used energy, then," Stark concluded. "But why would it do that? Shouldn't it have stayed in his body like, you know, what _normal_ energy does?"

And then everything clicked into place. The wisps of smoke that Thor had seen; the dream she had that morning in Tyr's camp. Before, she had thought that it was just some odd nightmare, caused by the nerves and the stress. Apparently, it wasn't.

"They're connected."

Stark looked at her funny. "Say that again?"

"They're connected," she repeated in a louder voice. "This morning, I had a dream where Tyr, Orion, Khione and Andleut were performing some sort of binding spell. It must have linked them all together somehow."

"And what about the energy that streamed out of Andleut?" said Thor.

"Stark was right the first time. It was used energy. But it is impossible to know who originally provided it, who the main link is between the four of them…"

"So, what you're saying is," Tony began, "If we kill one of 'em, we're basically killing off the energy of the Main Chow?"

Though a bit confused at his wording, Lauren nodded. "But there is no way for me to reach either Tyr or Khione," she pointed out. "They are both on Asgard."

"We'll leave it to your friends then."

"Yes," Thor agreed. "The children of Olympus are smart, Lady Hunter. They will figure it out, and they will call."

Without saying anything else, Thor raised his hammer and flew away, clutching the Basilisk's eye in his free hand.

"Yeah," Stark muttered. "They better, or we're all screwed."

Lauren couldn't help but to agree with him. They had no choice but to wait it out; she wouldn't be able to take on Orion while he was still linked to both Khione and Tyr. One of them had to die first before she could go to San Francisco.

Mustering the fight still left in her, she looked at Tony and said, "Might as well kill some monsters while we wait."

He slid his facemask back down. "Might as well."

* * *

 _What did y'all think of the Basilisk? I wanted to show a new monster, one that hadn't been shown in any of Riordan's books, so the battle wouldn't be too boring. Also, that cameo from the Minotaur and the Hulk was totally done on a whim, but I don't regret it. xD_

 _Make sure to leave a review!_


	37. Chapter 36 - Heartstrong

_A lot of shit goes down in this chapter, so I apologize if things get confusing. But there's another cameo here too, so make sure to keep an eye out!_

* * *

Time passed. How much time exactly, Lauren couldn't be sure.

For what felt like hours, everything consisted of jabs, swipes, ducks and rolls. Andleut was dead, and the Jotunns were left to fend for themselves, since Lauren had also turned against them. Their numbers were steadily dwindling, but the same went for Chiron's forces.

Stark was a red and gold blur. He flew from building to building, emptying them out and helping any demigod that he could find. In the distance, Lauren would often hear the roar of the Hulk, or the rumbling of thunder summoned by Thor. At the thought of the Avengers, she suddenly remembered Clint—where he was, what she had done to him.

She stopped in her tracks.

Was he fighting again?

The answer came in the form of a speck, standing atop one of the many buildings. The speck jumped from roof to roof, getting closer to where she and Stark were fighting. The Jotunns in its surrounding area fell. When Lauren looked closely, she saw the arrows sticking out of their bodies.

Slowly but surely, Barton killed off dozens of the Frost Giants. He disappeared for a while, as Lauren continued fighting; when she looked again, he was shooting arrows on the streets. And she couldn't help the smile that inched up her face. There was a slight limp in his step, and his stance was a bit lopsided. Her guilt easily overshadowed her relief.

Then, he was standing in front of her. He loosed an arrow that lodged itself into a wall, before it exploded and killed three unfortunate Frost Giants. He switched his gaze to her, and Lauren could see that he was still wary of her—expectant, though not as hostile anymore.

"We found Romanoff," Lauren said simply.

It became obvious, then, how strongly Barton felt for the Black Widow. It may not have been love, but it was something very close to that. While his face remained stoic, his eyes conveyed the warring emotions within him.

"Where is she?" he asked.

"In a Rum House by 47th and Broadway," Stark replied, shooting down a line of _dracaenae_ that had been chasing an injured demigod.

Barton's eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. "Why's she there?"

"I had to get her somewhere safe after she got frozen by a giant chicken monster."

"Petrified," Lauren corrected, "By the Basilisk. It has been dealt with, but she will have to remain there, out of harm's way, until the battle is over. Hopefully, the fight will go in our favor, so Chiron will be able to bring her back."

Clint stepped forward. "Bring her back?"

"Her heart still beats. Chiron is sure to know of a way to release her and the other demigods from their current state, but he will need time and resources, and help—all of which he does not have access to at the moment."

"And if we don't win? Will Orion help?"

At the grim look that settled on his face, Lauren sighed. "It is best not to think about that. Right now, we have to focus on killing him."

"You mean _you_ have to focus on killing him," Stark interjected, earning him a deep scowl from her.

They broke away from each other, rejoining the fight but remaining close enough in order to talk. "Do you even know where he is?" Clint asked.

"Yes," said Lauren. "San Francisco, California."

"And how exactly do you plan on getting to the other side of the country, princess?" Stark said.

"I'm working on it."

As the words escaped her lips, something fell from the sky, as rapid as a beam of sunlight.

Lauren jumped backwards in alarm, staring wide-eyed at the column of mist that had fallen in front of her. White haze crawled from the pillar, like smoke, and she dared not touch it.

"What the hell is that?" Barton muttered.

The pillar flattened and became vaguely circular in shape, like a mirror. Colors appeared on the surface, and soon, an image. Jason Grace stood there in his Greek armor, looking severely battle-worn. He was in some kind of grand chamber, the likes of which Lauren had only seen once before, on Asgard.

"Jason?" Lauren said. "What is this?"

"It's some kind of communication spell," he replied, shaking his head. "There's no time to explain. Percy and Nico are here. We're on Asgard, and we got Khione."

Her eyebrows rose. "As in, you—"

"Defeated her, yes. Leo's doohickeys took her out, turned her to ash. We gave the residues to Odin and told him to scatter it around the Nine Realms."

Surprised, Lauren said, "And he agreed?"

Jason nodded. "She won't be coming back for a long time… But, Lauren, Nico's hurt."

"How bad?"

"Not too bad," he replied, after glancing to the side, at something she couldn't see. "Look, Lauren, with Nico injured, we can't risk taking on Tyr. He's too strong. Percy's got this crazy idea that he's drawing his power from someone else."

In the background, Lauren heard the indignant voice of Percy, saying, "It's not crazy!"

"He is right. It's not," she said. "Tyr somehow linked himself to Orion, Khione, and the Frost Giant Andleut. Andleut is dead, so there is only Orion left, but…"

"You don't have any Olympians on speed dial, do you?" She shook her head and watched as a look of weary resignation flickered across Jason's face. He was just as hopeless as she, yet he pursed his lips and firmly nodded to her. "Alright… how do we go about this?"

The steely determination in his eyes rekindled something in her. Something Apollo had said to her came to mind; as stupid as it was, she understood it a bit better than before. _Sometimes, it's better to side with the losing team and lose the match, than to join the winning team and lose the entire season._

Lifting her chin, she said to Jason, "I will go to California, and I will weaken Orion as much as I can. But I need you to do the same with Tyr. It is the only way for this to work. Have your counterparts arrived?"

"Proteus is here—that's Percy's—and so is Macaria—that's Nico's. The only one missing is mine. Hephaestus. Slim chance that he'll be coming, but I'm still hoping." He scratched his head. "Quick question though. Uh… how do you plan on getting to San Fran all the way from New York?"

With a sigh, she shrugged and raised an eyebrow. "Any ideas?"

"Chiron didn't bring any of the pegasi, did he?"

"No."

"Shadow travelling is out of the question. Flying would take too long, even in that rusted Iron Man suit."

Stark was offended. "Hey!"

"Transference, then," Lauren offered. "Don't any of the Aesir know how to transport?"

Jason pursed his lips. "Thor?"

Somewhere outside the view of the communication spell, Lauren heard a girl rapidly muttering something about redemption and "a good heart". Oddly enough, Jason was looking in the direction of the voice, so he must have known who was speaking.

A pale hand came into view, touching Jason's shoulder and pushing him a bit to the side. A man then stepped up beside him, garbed in black and green leather. His hair was slicked back, and his eyes sparkled with mischief. Lauren may never have met him before, but she'd heard enough about those green eyes to know who she was looking at.

"Loki," she acknowledged grimly.

Clint walked forward, shoulders drawn back and nostrils flaring. Lauren placed a hand on his chest and kept him from getting any closer to the communication spell, fearing that he would break it somehow.

"Don't," she warned.

"Do you know what he's done? How many people he's killed?" he said. "You're willing to just _trust_ him? _Him_?"

"I do not like it any more than you, but if he knows a way to get me to California, then I have to hear him out." Pushing harder against his firm build, if only to steal his attention, she moved her head so that he would look at her instead of Loki. "Clint, I said I would fix all this, and I will."

At her words, he relaxed somewhat. Lauren guided him backwards a couple more steps before turning around again.

"God of Mischief and Lies," she greeted. "What charade will you speak to me now?"

A sly smirk crept up his face. "I see that the Greeks have become prideful. A god such as I is never quick to offer assistance, but here I stand, and yet you mock my goodwill."

She narrowed her eyes. "Tell me of your idea, or _leave_. Do not waste my time with your taunting."

Again, Lauren heard a girl speak to Loki from somewhere outside the view of the spell—"Don't make her mad," she said. Lauren soon became curious as to who this girl was, but she knew that it wasn't the time to ask.

Loki grinned one last time before putting on a professional face. "I will not be able to transport you myself, for that would require too much energy. But I know someone who can."

"A friend of yours?" Lauren asked.

"A very dear friend, yes."

"Can he be trusted?"

Just as quickly as it had gone, his grin returned, but Lauren could sense nothing malicious about it. "Of course," he said. "Just don't slap his behind, or he'll push you off."

Lauren frowned in confusion. _Why would I slap his behind?_

Before she could ask, a large group of Asgardian soldiers burst through two large doors behind Loki. "To the throne room!" one of them yelled. "All men, to the throne room!"

A raven-haired woman ran past the communication spell, trailed by a man with his hair in a bun and a large man with flowing red locks. Loki had turned away from Lauren and was watching the scene unfold behind him, ears pricked.

"Captain Einar!" the woman called. "What is it? What's going on?"

"Wolves!" the captain replied. "Tyr's summoned wolves!"

As they continued on their way, Lauren was able to make out the voice of Percy in the background: "Just when the Frost Giants are running out, the little butt sends in _wolves_. Great!"

"Lauren, we have to go," Jason said urgently.

"Loki, your friend," Lauren demanded. "He will come here?"

"His name is Letfetti," he said. "After precisely 61 seconds, he will appear before you in a gust of light. I hope he serves you well, Hunter of Artemis."

Following a bow and a flourish of his sword, Loki turned and trailed after the Asgardian soldiers. A girl rushed after him, seemingly coming from behind the communication spell. Her silver hair was all Lauren saw before she disappeared from view.

The colors on the communication spell became dull. Jason's face and the Asgardian chamber dissolved. Lauren heard Jason say, "Good luck, Lauren," before the fog evaporated all together.

"Where is Stark?" she asked, noticing how the billionaire hadn't said a word since Jason had insulted his Iron Man suit. When no reply came, she turned and was met with the serious eyes of Agent Barton. Huffing in exasperation, she said, "Do _not_ give me that look right now."

"I don't see why I shouldn't," he retorted. "You just decided to trust the man who brainwashed dozens of people, including me, killed _hundreds_ more, and stabbed Coulson. So yeah, I think I have the right to give you this look."

"Do you really think I enjoyed negotiating with him?"

"I think you enjoy opposing everything I say. I guess I can't blame you. I mean, after all, I do look exactly like the person who killed all your friends—"

Not another word escaped his mouth before Lauren had the tip of her sword positioned beneath his neck. Her thin line of patience had finally snapped. Her hand was shaking with fury. It was a several moments afterwards that she realized what she was doing.

Slowly, she lowered her sword, stepped away from him and turned her head. She focused on her breathing—in, out, in, out—and allowed her anger to dissipate. They couldn't fight amongst themselves. Not when everything was at stake.

"I'm sorry," Barton said quietly. "That was out of line."

She said nothing. A distant noise had now become a roar, and instinctively, she ducked her head just as a beam of white burst forth from the clouds. Lauren shielded her eyes from the blinding light. When the ringing in her ears had cleared, she removed her hand from her face and gaped in awe.

Before her was the most beautiful stallion she had ever seen. His mane and tail were the color of night, while his coat was purely silver—constantly changing as his muscles shifted and as he moved beneath the sunlight. His fur gradually became darker going down his limbs, but each of his legs ended with white socks.

Standing at possibly 19 hands tall, he easily towered over her form. But she regarded him with equality, sensing a deep intelligence in the creature that piqued her curiosity.

"Loki wasn't lying, huh?" Barton muttered. " _In a gust of light_."

"The perfect entrance for the perfect horse."

Vigilantly, she approached the stallion, holding her free hand out as she softly called out little greetings. Once she was standing directly in front of him and he had smelled her hand, she gently stroked his face, letting her fingers travel down his neck and to his sides.

"Greetings, Letfetti," she murmured. "May I ride you?"

He neighed softly and blinked at her as his ears pointed in her direction. He stomped his foot, but not in an aggravated manner.

"Get on, then," Barton suddenly said.

Sheathing the Traust sword, she mounted the horse, careful not to place her hand anywhere near his behind. Once she was safely atop the saddle, the horse nickered and began stomping his hooves in earnest, even shaking his head a bit. Lauren adjusted her grip on the reins and patted his neck.

Then, she twisted to meet Barton's gaze. "Heroes like us must rage against the dying of the light, yes?"

A look of recognition crossed his face and he acknowledged her words with a brisk nod. He reached over his shoulder, wrapped his fingers around an arrow, and drew his bow. Without another word, he turned around and jogged back into the fray.

Taking a deep breath, she said to the stallion, "Take me to San Francisco."

Letfetti trotted forward obediently. Soon, it became a full-on gallop. Lauren tightened her grip on the reins when she saw how close they were getting to the horde of battling monsters and demigods. Before she could stop them, her vision was overcome with white light, and she felt as if she was floating.

She saw nothing; heard nothing; smelled nothing. But she could feel Letfetti's muscles shifting between her legs, could feel his mane whipping against her hands and face while some unseen winds blew their way. It occurred to her that it was very cold.

And then very abruptly, her sense of sight returned to her. After blinking away the spots that came with the sudden, harsh light, she was welcomed by the spectacle of San Francisco in utter chaos.

It was when she had dismounted him that she felt the nerves settling in.

In an effort to compose herself, she unsheathed her sword and let its power flow through her, binding them together as it always did every time she held it.

"Thank you," she said to the stallion.

He replied to her by throwing his head back and trotting in a circle. Without breaking his momentum, he ran away from the noise of clashing swords and, eventually, disappeared in the same beam of light that had brought him to her in the first place.

Once again, Lauren was alone.

She knew she couldn't afford to stop and think. Her thoughts were the only things keeping her from charging headfirst into battle, but at the same time, they were the only things keeping her from running away.

Steeling herself, she took a step forward, and then another, and then another. Before she knew it, Lauren was back in the fray and fighting like hell.

Dozens of monsters fell by her sword. She was surprised to find that there were many resurrected creatures rampaging through San Francisco—such as the Colchis Bulls. Upon raising her head, she found a flock of Stymphalian Birds flying overhead, probably the very same ones she had encountered days ago on Stark's plane.

 _Khione was certainly busy,_ she mused grimly.

As she journeyed deeper into the city, she heard the roar of something incredibly large. She turned to find the Nemean Lion tromping down the block. Several Roman archers were shooting at it from the ground, but their arrows merely bounced off of its hide. They obviously hadn't heard the stories about it before.

Lauren ran towards one of the archers and called for his attention. She watched as he drew his bow and got an arrow right into the Lion's eye. The Lion bellowed and continued its rampage with renewed vigor.

"Hey, you!" Lauren called. (Not one of her finest moments, but she didn't know his name. Still, it got the job done.)

The archer in question turned in the direction of Lauren with a slightly panicked expression.

"You will not be able to get anything through that pelt," she said. "Get its mouth open and shoot arrows into the back of its throat."

He looked doubtful. "How are you sure that that'll work?"

"Experience." Without waiting for a reply, she walked away and turned a corner.

An underpass labeled "Caldecott Tunnel" came into view, and with it came a sense of discomfort, as if Lauren wasn't supposed to be there. She followed her instincts, letting the discomfort grow inside her, until it led her into a service tunnel near the main Caldecott Tunnel. In the darkness of the passageway, Lauren could make out the glinting armor of monsters and Romans alike.

As she reached the end of the tunnel, taking in the sight of an averagely wide, slithering river, there was a sudden commotion behind her.

"Wait!" a girl called, followed by a single collision of metal against metal, and then the sound of a sword cutting through flesh. "Wait! Hey, wait!"

Lauren rolled her eyes. "I don't have time for this."

Regarding the body of water before her, she was starting to consider the idea of just swimming across it, when someone grabbed her arm.

Instinctively, she pushed her elbow back until it collided with a sternum. She whirled around, sword raised over her head. Her blade clashed with something else, but she'd seen her opponent's face. And apparently she wasn't an opponent at all.

"Hazel?" Lauren immediately pulled her sword arm back, shocked to find the centurion standing there instead of one of Khione's monsters.

"Geez, Lauren!" she said. "Calm down!"

"Sorry." Dazed, and even a bit sheepish, Lauren bowed her head.

Hazel, the soft-spoken person that she was, just nodded in acceptance of her apology, smiling slightly. "Forgiven," she said. "Listen, were you just about to swim across the Little Tiber?"

"Well, yes." Why did Hazel sound so surprised?

"Lauren, that's _the_ Little Tiber, a smaller version of the one in Rome. It's the camp's first layer of protection. It kills anything that's Greek, and completely washes away any Greek blessings—including the Curse of Achilles…" The Roman frowned. "Percy didn't tell you?"

"No, he did not." Sighing at the situation she had gotten herself into, Lauren asked, "How can I get past it?"

"There's a bridge not far from here. A few minutes away, but it's the only way in."

As they started jogging by the bank of the river, Lauren said, "Did Khione's army get in as well, or have they been focusing on the city in general?"

"Just the city."

Lauren turned towards Camp Jupiter again and noticed the little vibrations beneath her feet. They could easily have been coming from outside the Caldecott Tunnel, but there was a pit in her stomach. She looked to Hazel. "He is in there, isn't he?"

The girl's expression darkened. "He arrived a few minutes ago. I got Reyna's distress signal just before I found you."

All they could do was hope that Reyna had lots of resources in the camp to keep Orion at bay. Lauren gazed at the buildings of New Rome in the distance, a familiar emotion bubbling in her chest. "How did he get in?" she asked, seeking to distract herself. "Surely you had traps set on the bridge and near the camp."

"We did. He jumped over them all."

"That is… unfortunate."

Hazel snorted, but the anxiety was clear on her face. She was worried for Reyna, and perhaps someone else as well.

"Hazel," Lauren said in a gentle voice. "Is Frank in there too?" The Roman nodded, and Lauren set her jaw in grim determination. "I will kill Orion if it is the last thing that I do."

"Yeah, but… don't you need a god for that?"

Lauren was trying to remain optimistic, but Hazel was right. She needed a god to kill Orion, and none of them had been of any help so far. Perhaps she was just running headfirst into her doom, but she was willing to put her life on the line, if only it meant weakening Tyr enough for Jason and the others to put him down.

The bridge stretched across each bank of the Little Tiber, paralleled to the long line of mounds in the distance that was Berkeley Hills. It was built out of stone and wood. It looked like it had once been respectable enough, but now there was practically nothing left of it but a few stone blocks and wooden beams with splintered ends.

"We'll have to jump," Hazel said. "The first wave was really stupid—ran straight for the bridge, and this happened. They ended up just backing away and focusing on raising hell in the city. A good thing for us, now that I think about it. The traps were our first and last means of protecting New Rome. This way, nothing can get in.

"Except Orion."

Lauren stepped onto the farthest possible beam-end and leapt across the river. It didn't feel like too big of a feat, but when she turned around, Hazel was outright gaping at her. Lauren gestured to her. "Come on."

"Lauren, the Styx must have given you super strength or something," Hazel replied, shaking her head. "I can't jump that far, not without help."

After a moment's hesitation, Lauren bobbed her head in acceptance. "Lead your legionnaires to victory, then."

Hazel grinned, and then pointed to a flat bunch of land just northwest of where they were. "If I were you, I'd check the Field of Mars first. Reyna's smart. It's an open arena there, but there are a bunch of trenches and hidden passages too. Orion wouldn't be able to fit in those."

It occurred to Lauren that it was the eleventh hour. After a few more minutes, she would be locked in battle with Orion, a fight to the death. Either she was going to survive, or she wasn't. She decided that she didn't want anyone to remember her as the bossy, inconsiderate girl.

"Thank you, Hazel Levesque," she said earnestly. "For everything.

"Kick his butt." Hazel threw her a quick grin before turning around and running back to the service tunnel.

Taking a deep breath, Lauren broke into a sprint towards the Field of Mars.

The Traust sword seemed to sense the urgency in her movements. Wave after wave of power entered her veins, erasing any trace of her earlier fatigue. Lauren took a moment to thank the gods for allowing her to be bonded with such a sword.

If she was going to die, then she would go down happily, as long as she had the Traust sword in her hand and the honor of knowing that no one else was worthy to hold it.

Orion had left tracks on the snow. It seemed that he was heavier than he gave himself credit to be. Lauren followed the trail and came across a small knoll. Orion's tracks showed that he jumped over, but she could see a small opening in the otherwise thick snow.

She dug into it to reveal a hole just large enough to crawl through. Sneaking up on Orion wasn't going to do any good, though, when her only weapon against him was a close-ranged one.

Lauren jumped over the knoll and immediately caught sight of the giant. He wasn't engaged in a fight; she saw that his shoulders were slumped and his steps were slow, circling the field—as if he was looking for someone.

He was only a couple of meters away. And Hazel hadn't been lying—everything within the whole perimeter was flat and unyielding, and it wasn't covered in snow. Lauren guessed that there was some form of heaters under the ground.

 _Smart,_ she thought, and she needed to be smart now. Dive headlong into combat with Orion, or sneak up on him?

The latter didn't feel like an agreeable decision, given the nature of her situation. So, with head held high, Lauren trudged onto the Field of Mars, not even trying to quiet her footsteps so as to announce her presence. And it worked.

Orion stopped his searching, his attention caught, and a malicious smile crept up his lips. "I knew that no one could hold you back," he said. "Not even Tyr."

As Lauren grew closer, he raised the sword in his hand. It had a single-edged blade, recurved, and Lauren knew that it was a kopis—although, it was definitely larger than any regular kopis. Its grip was wide enough to fully accommodate Orion's hand.

She raised an eyebrow. "New toy?"

"Tyr had it made specifically for me," he said as he looked down at the blade, touching the metal. "It can kill both demigods _and_ humans, so that, when I'm done with you, I can kill anything that's left of your precious Avengers. No one will protect the humans then."

Lauren scowled. "You underestimate them."

"Oh, you'd know that I've _over_ estimated them, if you've seen what I've seen," said Orion. "The World Tree offered more than just power, but knowledge as well—knowledge of the past and the present. And since the future is always in motion, I will forge it myself, in my own image."

"You talk as if you are a god."

He held his arms out on either side of him. "I am stronger than any giant; I have the knowledge of the universe at my disposal—am I, on all accounts, not a god?"

"If you think you are a god, then you are mad."

Lauren sneered at the anger that crossed his face. By that time, she was standing in the center of the Field of Mars, only a few yards away from Orion. Behind her, she heard the shifting of snow and a low exclamation. She knew that voice.

"Frank, Reyna," she called over her shoulder. "Get out of here. I will deal with Orion."

There was no reply, but she hadn't really been expecting one. She just hoped that they would follow her order, and soon. Orion looked like he was itching to start a fight.

"You only prolong their suffering," he said. "When I kill you, Tyr will do unspeakable things to them as payback for your treachery."

" _When_ you kill me?" Lauren scoffed. "Your pride will be your downfall."

He shook his head. "Prideful I may be, but I am not the only one with such a trait. You come here and expect to defeat me single-handedly? I thought you were smarter than that."

 _It's not like I had a choice,_ she thought grimly. "I do not need a god to kill you."

A dangerous expression crossed his face. "Let's test that theory, shall we?"

Then he was swiftly closing the distance between them, as fast as he had been back in San Juan, and Lauren had no choice but to steel her gut, raise her sword, and pray that she would still be alive come nightfall.

* * *

 _The full action sequence will come in the next chapter. How did y'all like this one, though? Make sure to leave a review please! :)_

 _P.S._ _If you've read one of the very first stories that I published here, called "My Salve", then you'll know who that silver-haired girl was with Loki. ;)_


	38. Chapter 37 - Royal Flush

_"Royal Flush" is a term used in Poker. It is the hand of the highest possible value when wild cards are not in use._

* * *

If it weren't for the blessing of the Styx, Lauren was certain that she would be dead.

Orion's blade had touched her skin half a dozen times already; all of which would have been fatal blows, if the Curse of Achilles hadn't protected Lauren. Nevertheless, her body ached, her muscles screamed, and her eyes watered from the pain. But she fought on, powered only by her deep hatred for Orion, the constant flow of energy from the Traust sword, and the fact that she had already landed three or so hits.

She kept her feet on the ground as much as possible. It was the safest possible solution, considering her situation. Whenever she leapt away from his blade, she made sure to keep her knees up and her heels back. If Orion noticed her odd movements… She desperately hoped that he didn't.

Her goal was to tire him out. Before, it had seemed so easy. But with his skin being as impenetrable as hers, and his knowledge in sword fighting far outweighing hers, she quickly became hard-pressed on remaining at odds with him. It was lucky that the Traust sword was made of something special. If she'd been using any other weapon, the blade would have dulled a minute into their fight.

Orion's sword was larger, and much heavier than hers. Had she been facing anyone else, she would exploit such a fact and use it to her advantage. But Orion was a giant, far stronger than any man. He could lift the blade even with one hand. The only other fault she had noticed was that it took him longer to lift the blade than it did for him to strike it down.

So, whenever his blade hit the ground where she'd been standing on, she would issue a quick but heavy blow on anything she could reach. It wouldn't draw blood, but it would still hurt him. That was all she could hope for.

She had just performed such a maneuver, and was about to fade away when Orion swiped his hand through the air, hitting her and sending her flying for several feet. She skidded across the ground for a moment before she dug her feet into the snow, slowing her momentum.

Her breaths came in short pants. To her satisfaction, so did Orion's.

"You're becoming predictable," he said, "And tired."

She shook her head. "I could do this all day."

As much as she wanted to keep him from regaining his strength, she had to catch her breath. Calm her heart. Collect her thoughts. One wrong move could send her flying a second time, and in her state of exhaustion, she wasn't sure if she'd be able to pick herself back up again.

Cautiously, she started towards him again, not raising her sword but keeping her guard up anyway. Orion smugly watched her advance, and she wanted nothing more than to stab him through his bronze, mechanical eye.

"Why not make it easier for the both of us?" she said. "Tell me where your Achilles Heel is, and I will tell you mine."

He chuckled darkly. "I don't want a fair fight."

"It would be easier for you to kill me if you only knew _how_ , wouldn't it?"

"Lauren, I already know how to kill you." A sickening smile appeared on his face. "I just don't want to yet."

Her heart dropped. How could he know? Had she let something slip? Was it her body language? Or had one of his minions somehow found out?

He was bluffing. He had to be.

The look of confusion must have been clear on her face—it was too difficult to hide—and Orion seemed to enjoy seeing it on her. His smile broadened. "Oh, Lauren," he said cynically. "You've gotten slow during your time with those big-headed, mortal superheroes. Can you truly not understand?"

"Understand what?" she snapped.

"During my last day on the World Tree, I was given a vision of a girl. A girl—accompanied by a child of darkness, and a man—who bathed in the River Styx. And Yggdrasil gave me the name of this girl, just exactly who she was, even when I already knew. And it granted me information on where her one weak spot was."

Lauren was frozen in place.

She'd charged into battle with Orion, thinking that perhaps she had some sort of advantage. But in reality, he had already exploited that, and she had been stupid enough to miss one small detail: Orion was still on Yggdrasil when she received the Curse. Such an event would undoubtedly reach the World Tree, and now Orion knew.

He took a deep breath. "It's quite smart, actually; placing it somewhere obvious—so obvious that no one would ever think that you'd do something so foolish, being who you are."

She bared her teeth. "Do not ever presume to know _who_ I am. You know _nothing_ about me."

"I know that you despise me. It's clear as day in your eyes. You might think that you can use it against me, but it's been your true weakness from the very start, as well as your pride."

That was the last straw. Any form of hesitation within her died out with her first step.

She ran towards him and made a move to hack at his knee. He intercepted her blow and pushed her back. She kept on the offense, never letting up. Yet he framed her movements with such ease, with even a smile on his face, and she hated it.

He was _toying_ with her.

"You despise the Olympians as well, don't you?" he said, effortlessly parrying her attacks. "For their carelessness, their selfishness. They left the demigods to fend for themselves in a war they cannot hope to win."

"We will win!" she retorted. "Bellona helped kill you once, now Artemis will help me. She may not be here in body, but she is here in spirit—"

"Ah yes, ever faithful to the Lady Artemis. You would do anything for her, wouldn't you? Absolutely anything." He shook his head, sighing. "But she's holding you back, well and truly."

Lauren brought her sword down harder and harder, and still he remained firm.

"I don't want to kill you, Lauren," he said. "It would be such a waste. You're powerful, and you haven't even gone up to your full potential yet. I could use someone like you in my ranks. Tyr wanted you as a subordinate, a _helper_ , but I want you by my side when I take over Olympus. My partner… I can make you stronger." As he swept her sword away in a wide arc, he added, "I can protect the ones you love."

She growled. "You say that, and yet it is you who I am protecting them from in the first place."

He hummed thoughtfully. "Their submission is all I ask for, in exchange for their safety. Bring them to me, and if they swear fealty, then no harm will come to them. I can protect your mother, your Hunters… even that human archer that you've grown so fond of."

"Tyr would not allow it. He wants all of the Avengers dead."

With a scoff, Orion said, "Tyr is nothing but a pin in my side. He talks a good game, but I've grown stronger than him. And besides…" He shrugged. "Why would I want to hurt a descendant of mine?"

It was only to be expected, Lauren supposed. Their traits, physically, were jus too similar. And what else could explain Barton's uncanny ability with a bow?

Despite her slight shock, Lauren glared pointedly at Orion. "You would betray your ally?"

"Never actually liked him. He is powerful, yes, but he never delivered. He's too… soft." At her raised eyebrow, he elaborated, while she, as subtly as possible, observed his body language. If he wouldn't tell her where his Achilles Heel was, then she'd have to figure it out herself. "I need someone by my side who can question my methods and replace it with an even better idea… An innovator, if you will."

She scoffed. "Khione the snow goddess, an _innovator_. I never would have guessed."

"She can be smart when she wants to be. And she knows what she wants." He raised an eyebrow. "Do _you_ know what _you_ want?"

"I want you dead!" Nostrils flared, she executed an empty fade and was able to land a firm swipe across the back of his knee. "Dead at my feet. If not dead, then weak enough so I can make you watch as I destroy everything that you have ever worked to build, tear it down _right in front of you_."

He uttered a low growl, one of pain and annoyance, and retaliated by bearing his sword down on her. She felt the ground tremble under the weight of his attack as she rolled to the left, barely avoiding his blade. She ducked. While his arm swept over her head, she swung her arm in an arc, catching his elbow. Was it just her or had she actually surprised him?

And then he did something that startled her.

He started laughing. The kind of laugh that people heard in children's movies, when the villain stood over the hero in their moment of victory. The kind that sent chills down Lauren's spine.

Straightening his stance, he twirled his sword in his hand. He didn't even look fazed in the slightest. He almost looked… satisfied.

"Do you see, now?" he said. "Your anger fuels you. Drives you to do things that other people would consider cruel, but what I consider to be… creative." He looked at her with a glint in his eye. "You and I are more alike than you think."

"You and I are _nothing_ alike," she hissed. "I would sooner kill myself than help you take control of Olympus."

"You aid those blind gods of yours, yet what have they ever done for you?"

"They gave me a home. _Artemis_ gave me a home—"

"Let me rephrase," he interrupted, holding up a hand and earning himself a growl from the Hunter. "What has _your father_ done for you?"

She kept her mouth shut, glaring daggers at him. What could she say? His question had caught her by surprise, and even with the long moment that he gave her, she still didn't know how to respond. What had Apollo done for her?

"He…" She furrowed her eyebrows in thought. "He helped me—"

"Helped you survive your quest and find my bane, only to abandon you once the war begun. Now, ask me why." He waited for her, eyes widening in expectation. She only tightened her grip on the Traust sword.

It wasn't any indication for him to continue, but he did anyway: "Because he _doesn't care_. None of them do! I've been pinned to the World Tree, and I _know_. But unlike them, I am willing to let you come with me on the road to greatness, _transcendence_."

"I do not want _transcendence_. I do not want _anything_ from you."

"Everyone wants something. You're just too deep in your hubris to see that."

"Hubris?" she repeated, the fire of rage in her stomach quickly returning. "You _will_ die today, Orion. This I promise you."

He shook his head, as if in disappointment. "I offer you protection, power, a place by my side, and you push me away… So be it." The tiny spark of compassion on his face—the lie—disappeared, replaced by the animosity and wrath that was so familiar to Lauren.

"I will cripple you, bruise you so much that you won't even be able to walk," he said. "And then I'll make you watch as I kill everyone that you care about—starting with your _whore_ of a mother."

Furious, Lauren raised her sword over her head, wanting to land a hit on his exposed chest.

He intercepted her blow with relative ease; shed her blade downwards so he could drive the pommel of his sword against her nose. She retreated backwards, blinking away the spots in her vision.

She recovered the lost ground, moving quickly in the hopes of catching him unprepared with a counter-attack. It was only then that she noticed the difference in Orion's behavior.

His shoulders were drawn back, spine stretched and legs straight, unlike before when he could actually bend a little when he fought her. There was a sneer on his face.

It was too late to draw her sword back. But instead of continuing into her original motion, something took control of her body. It might have been the Traust sword, or something else entirely.

She feinted at his left side, something that he surprisingly fell for. Hastily, she spun to the opposite side and landed a firm swipe on his ribcage, just below his right shoulder.

He swung his sword in her direction. It missed her nose by inches. The gall had fallen from his face, replaced with wide eyes, flaring nostrils and an open mouth. What had she done that had surprised him so much?

And then it hit her.

What she saw on his face wasn't shock. It was fear. And there was only one thing left in the world that could so effectively force him to step away from her, and it was his weakness.

In a bout of confidence, she held Orion's gaze and said, "You should have worn armor today."

With a short yell, Orion closed the distance between them and brought his sword down on her. Lauren moved to the side, parrying his blade, and made for his right again. In a wild and uncharacteristic maneuver, he shifted his feet and spun around, waving his sword in a circle around him.

The movement may have been unimpressive, but the impact on her sword was enough to send Lauren tumbling backwards. She should have been very close to where his Achilles Heel was to have forced him into such drastic measures.

It was somewhere along his right arm, then. His shoulder, or his neck—perhaps even the underside of his arm; like Luke Castellan's.

Lauren advanced, sword aloft and mind desperately working to find a way on how she could land a hit. She made sure to keep him on the defensive. Never giving him time to gather his thoughts and formulate a counter-attack.

She knew that he was a master archer, but not a master swordsman. Nor was she, yet the Traust sword had once more bonded with her completely, and they moved as one. A child of the sun and a sword forged by a race that was not her own; it served her better than any other blade ever could.

They remained like that for a time, locked in combat, a battle that would shape the future of everything that Lauren had ever known. Two invincible beings that were frantically trying to finish off the other, or, in Orion's case, cripple her. She wouldn't let that happen, but even then, she could see his eyes flickering to her right heel every now and then.

She guessed that, if he were sure that she was going to defeat him, he would just go back on his word and stab her right in the foot. Which was why she tried so hard to land a blow on his right side. She was willing to bet that his Achilles Heel was on his armpit, where Luke's was.

One cut was all she needed. As thin and shallow as a paper cut, and it would be enough.

In the midst of their fighting, she somehow found herself inching towards the defensive end. She parried his blows, weaving in and out and trying to put conviction into the few attacks that she could make. But she was tired.

She stopped his blade in its descent onto her head. Yet just as she was going to issue a counter-attack, she suddenly heard a voice in her head.

 _Lauren,_ it said, faintly, as if coming from very far away. _We're coming, Lauren._

"Father?" she breathed.

With her caught off guard, Orion slipped his sword beneath hers and pushed upwards. Her sword arm was thrown back and she lost her footing. Orion's sword moved in a blur. One second, he was readjusting his grip, and the next he was spinning on the spot. The momentum travelled to his sword as he swung it in her direction.

Lauren brought her sword up, but the force behind his attack was too much. Her arm gave way under the pressure; her stomach took the brunt of the attack. And then she was flying through the air.

When she landed on her back, she skidded across the ground for a good few seconds before it disappeared beneath her. She had fallen into a pit of some sort; she vaguely recalled Hazel mentioning something about there being trenches for the Romans' war games.

A groan escaped her lips. Her chest was throbbing with pain, and her right shoulder was screaming its exhaustion. Beside her lay the Traust sword. She once more wrapped her fingers around the hilt, allowing its power to flow within her. It was enough to keep her eyes open.

Before she could get back on her feet, a large hand had grabbed her by the neck and pulled her out of the trench. Orion's hand.

She struggled in vain, kicking and thrashing with weak limbs. Eventually, she stopped. Orion just stared at her with a satisfied look on his face.

"You put up a valiant fight," he said. "But it's over for you now. I win."

Lauren glanced down and could have sobbed in frustration. He was holding her up with his left hand. She didn't have a clear shot for his Achilles Heel.

"Just kill me already," she croaked. "Make it quicker for the both of us."

"Oh, but I have plans for you." He sneered. "Your suffering has just begun, little hunter."

Black spots were invading Lauren's vision. She struggled to keep from going limp in his grasp. She wouldn't let her pride be taken away from her as well.

Then, the voice of her father came again, clearer this time.

 _Use the sword, Lauren,_ he said. _He isn't worthy of it._

Somehow, her exhausted mind was able to comprehend the meaning behind his words.

She raised the Traust sword, focusing on its power; what she had done to be able to wield it; all the things she had accomplished with the blade.

Amusement flickered across Orion's face. "Fighting till the end, eh?"

Just as the spots were closing in on her vision, the pressure around her neck disappeared. Orion stumbled backwards, clutching his head with a pained look on his face. Lauren fell to the ground and her knees buckled beneath her. She felt so weak, so tired—

 _Tyr is dead,_ said Apollo. _Now's your chance. Take it!_

Everything she'd fought for led up to this moment. Orion's horsemen were dead. He was all that was left.

With what felt like the weight of the world on her shoulders, Lauren mustered the remaining fight she had left in her. She tightened her grip on the Traust sword. Its energy leaked into her, giving her just enough strength to get off the ground.

A grunt of exertion fell from her lips as she jumped up onto Orion's figure. Grabbed his shoulders. Pushed him down. Before he could retaliate, Lauren aligned the Traust sword with his shoulders and left it there on his chest.

She rolled off of him, crawled out of reach and laid on her side, head on the ground and heart pounding in her chest.

"No!" Orion screamed in rage. "Get this off me! Get it off!"

His hands were on the Traust sword, trying in vain to pull it off of him. A small smile crawled onto Lauren's lips. Here was the being that had the knowledge of the universe at his disposal, yet even he wasn't worthy to lift her sword.

As he continued shouting, his rage turned into panic, and then his panic into fear. He was staring up at the sky with wild eyes, struggling more than ever.

"It can't be!" he said. "You weren't supposed to come. None of you were supposed to come!"

Tiredly, Lauren tilted her head. The clouds were parting; the sky itself seemed to open up. A wide beam of light travelled down from the heavens, and a man in glittering, golden armor appeared where the light touched the earth. She looked away.

Apollo turned to her and knelt by her side, taking her hand and squeezing it.

"You did well, Lauren," he said, but even that sounded hollow past the ringing in her ears. "Tell me where it is, so I can kill him. Where is his Achilles Heel?"

"Right shoulder," she managed to whisper. "Under the right…"

Her throat closed up. Her lips refused to move. She could see that Apollo was saying something to her, but she could hear nothing. Not even the ringing.

Apollo stepped away from her, unsheathing his blade. The light bouncing off it was the last thing that Lauren saw, before the darkness took hold.

* * *

 _update comes in a week (or a few days, if i'm feeling particularly kind. Hehehe.)_


	39. Chapter 38 - Halcyon

_Can you believe that this story's almost over? Less than six chapters coming up in the next few weeks. I'm doing my best to keep updating regularly, though if enough people ask, I make sure to consider updating a bit earlier than when I should. ;)_

 _This is a very chill chapter. Maybe a bit happy, but not overly so. Lauren is exhausted with everything that's happened, after all. The facts begin to sink in here._

* * *

She was floating in a sea of darkness, an eternal nothingness. A void. She couldn't feel anything… It felt good.

Eventually, she became aware of a tremendous fatigue. But not the bad kind, if there was even such a thing. No, it was as if she had been placed on the softest bed in existence and swathed in layers upon layers of heavy blankets, and it was a chilly Sunday morning, and she found that she didn't want to get up. Not in the slightest.

But she was also aware that she was alive, somehow. In the stillness, she was able to hear a steady _tha-thump, tha-thump_ —weak but, like any heartbeat, it was vital.

A considerable amount of time passed. All eternity could have come and gone and she wouldn't have known. Nothing changed in her black hole. Nothing moved, nothing breathed. She was left to do nothing but exist, alongside the continuous, rhythmic sound of _tha-thump, tha-thump_.

Finally, impossibly, a change presented itself to her. The darkness receded ever so slightly, before returning again. The process repeated itself, until such a time that a certain kind of greyness emerged. A black hole she may have been in, but it was no longer so supreme, so ineffable, so all-encompassing. Her cocoon of blankets lightened up, seemed to fall away, layer-by-layer.

And then she was the one falling. Falling into solidity. Falling into herself.

Some of her senses returned to her—slowly, at first, and then very suddenly.

She felt that she was lying on something soft, covered in something warm. It really wasn't much different from the black hole, except here, there was something more real. Something imperfect.

She could feel where her limbs were, could tell which were which. All of them hurt. She could feel where her heart was; it continued its tempo of _tha-thump, tha-thump_ , never faltering—but something lighter accompanied it, this time. Following its pace, there was a constant beeping that seemed to come from her right. It, along with her heartbeat, was all she could hear.

She could feel where her head was. Her mind. It was grappling for something to hold on to, something to assure her that everything was real. What came to her was a memory.

There she stood on top of a hill, looking down at the carnage below her. Kali with three arrows in her body, Aria's mangled corpse, Jill's lifeless form, and Ethan lying in a pool of his own blood.

Lauren focused on the pain in her limbs. Maybe if she did, then she'd return to the black hole. She certainly wanted to.

But then she heard something new, apart from the sound of her heart—a door. Opening and closing. Footsteps. The barely audible creak of a chair. And then someone else was breathing, somewhere close beside her.

Seconds passed, and she heard the softest sound, the whisper of air stirred by the motion of the being sitting by her. She heard it take a breath.

"It's a beautiful morning out. Just like yesterday, and the day before that… I really wish that you'd wake up, Lauren. You should see just how much has changed since Orion died."

More memories came, stirred by the mention of a name. Mechanical eyes. An unfeeling smile.

"I have something that might make you feel better though." The air shifted again, affected by his movement. She vaguely heard the rustling of aged paper. "Considering you can't exactly go to the library right now, I found it for you."

He cleared his throat, and she found herself anticipating the moment that he would speak again.

"Do not go gentle into that good night. Old age should burn and rave at close of day; rage, rage against the dying of the light."

Something stirred within Lauren. The words sounded so familiar, like something she had heard ages ago. The stranger kept on:

"Though wise men at their end knows dark is right, because their words had forked no lightning, they do not go gentle into that good night."

Her mind struggled to find one specific memory, the right memory—the one that could free her from the darkness.

"Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay; rage, rage against the dying of the light."

Slowly, it came to her.

"Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, and learn, too late, they grieved it on its way; do not go gentle into that good night."

Like a fire coming to life from a single spark, the memory emerged.

"Grave men, near death, who see with blinding light—blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay; rage, rage against the dying of the light."

Sitting in a dark room with the sound of waves rushing by, she and a man conversed together rather uncomfortably. His words were light, while hers were tense, yet she seemed to be trying to relax.

There was a fleeting emotion in her eyes that he didn't seem to catch.

"And you, my friend, there on that sad height; curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

Stillness settled into the room. She could still hear the low breathing of the stranger, and the steady _tha-thump, tha-thump_ of her heart. But she remained in the memory for a while longer, soaking in the tranquility of it. And the man… She remembered him now.

She missed him.

"Come on, Lauren," he said. "It's time to wake up."

So she did.

Carefully, almost instinctively, she opened her eyes. Intense whiteness blinded her for a moment. So different it was from the dark that she had been in for—how long? Days? Weeks? Months? She blinked the dots away from her vision, until eventually, she was able to realize that it was a ceiling above her.

She tilted her neck, took everything in and understood that she was in a healing ward of sorts.

Squinting, she beheld the form that was sat beside her: Agent Barton, with his elbows on his knees and head in his hands. To his left was a heart monitor machine, where the constant beeping sound was coming from. He had a small pocketbook on his lap; with her blurred vision and dyslexia, it was impossible to make out what the title was, but she had a good guess.

"Are you a poet today?" she asked. Her voice sounded paper thin to her ears, but the effect it had on Barton was immediate.

His head snapped up and, for a moment, he stared at her in astonishment. Then a wide smile lit up his face and he tapped the pocketbook once. "I knew this would catch your attention," he said. "And I can be anything I want, thank you very much."

Despite his efforts to hide it, the deep-seated relief was evident in his words.

"Certainly," she replied.

She started to come back to herself. Like water dripping into a container, steadily filling it up, her awareness returned, heightening with every passing second.

"How are you?" asked Barton.

"Like I was dropped from Mount Olympus and then trampled on by a stampede of centaurs."

He chuckled lightly. "One of the few prices you have to pay for saving the universe, I guess."

Lauren looked at him, then. Really looked at him. There were bags under his eyes, and his shoulders were drooped forward. But he held his chin up, and his eyes were alight with something akin to hope.

"Orion?" she said.

"Dead," he replied. "As well as the rest of his back-up. The armies started retreating when the Olympians came down. They got pretty freaked out by that."

The weight of the world seemed to fall off her shoulders. Her chest constricted with pure happiness, to the point of pain, but the good kind of pain. A sheen of tears appeared on her eyes. And for the first time in a long time, she felt like she could breathe again.

"We really did it," she said, not quite believing that their hardship had finally come to an end. Some part of her expected another problem to pop up, that someone would come running into the room and say that Orion, or Khione, or Andleut, or Tyr had somehow survived. Or that another prophecy had been spoken.

The smile on Barton's face was enough to reassure her that everything was, indeed, over.

Temporarily, at least.

He then shifted on his seat, and his muscles tensed. Lauren glanced at him and saw that his eyes were on her nose. With eyebrows raised, she lowered her eyes and found herself deeply unsettled by what she saw.

A thin, white tube was inserted into one of her nostrils, held in place by some sort of adhesive tape. The tube ran up and over her shoulder, to a clear bag filled with what looked to be water.

"What is this?" As she spoke, she noticed how swollen her throat felt.

Barton sighed. "It's called a Nasogastric feeding tube," he said. "We had to get one into you when you showed no signs of gaining consciousness. Fury thought that letting you get by without food or water for so long was too risky, considering that you barely had a pulse when we found you."

He was right to think so. The Styx's blessing wasn't going to protect her from starving to death. Then, a thought occurred to her.

Swallowing back the lump in her throat, she asked, "How long have I been unconscious?"

The reluctance was clear on his face. He looked her in the eye. "Ten days."

She was stunned into silence. _Ten days._ That was more than a week without proper food. She looked down at the feeding tube again, this time, in wonder. Then she brought her hand up, about to pull the blanket up when she noticed how bony her wrist was. Dismayed, she pulled her blanket up and glanced down at her body.

She had been changed out of her armor and into a hospital patient's usual attire. It made it easier to see the changes in her physique.

Five small patches were stuck onto her chest, undoubtedly connected to the monitoring machine beside her bed; the skin beneath them was sallow. Her limbs had taken on a skinny quality about them that she had only ever seen on homeless children. Her knees, strong as they were, jutted out like tennis balls.

"Hey," Barton said, pulling her out of her reverie. His voice was laced with concern, and his eyebrows were furrowed together. "You okay?"

"Fine," she lied. "Just surprised, is all. Nico mentioned something about overextending the Styx's blessing… I may have done exactly that during my fight with Orion."

 _I could have died,_ was what she wanted to say. And yet, Thanatos had not appeared to her. Not even in her dreams. Was that the only price she had to pay, then? A coma?

Clint sighed deeply, catching her attention once more. "The bastard is gone now. That's all that matters."

Yes, Orion was dead. For what seemed like such a long time, that was all she had wanted… so why was she feeling dejected? Where was the tap-dancing jubilee that she had always wanted? What had changed?

"What now?" she found herself asking.

Standing up, he crossed his arms and glanced at the door. "Now, I have to go get the doctors, because I'm guessing you want out of here as soon as possible, right?"

"We are in a S.H.I.E.L.D. facility?" she asked, to which he nodded. "Then you guessed right."

The corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement. He turned and exited the room, but not without throwing her a last glance over his shoulder. She returned his gaze with a twitch of her lips. Once she was alone in the room, she took the time to gather her thoughts.

Orion and Khione were finally dead, Andleut and Tyr were in Hel, and both of the prophecies had been fulfilled.

She felt a tear slip down her cheek, and smiled to herself at how foolish she was being. It was a time for laughter, not tears. Yet the curl in her lips wouldn't go away. Soon, she came to realize that they were turned downwards, into an ugly grimace that shook every time she tried to make it go away.

The tears continued falling. She started to remember the faces of the dead—Jill, Kali, Aria, Ethan; the countless other demigods who had died by _her_ hands.

 _People die in war,_ she had once said. She had never thought that she'd be the one to kill the good guys, her own family.

She felt her shame, her _guilt_ , inside her like a knife. Cutting deeper and deeper as the shadows of the dead came to haunt her. They appeared at the foot of her bed, one by one, and stared down at her with bronze eyes. Orion's eyes.

Even in his death, he was capable of hurting her—reminded her of all the monstrosities that she had to do in order to defeat him and his horsemen. Some part of her wondered whether it was all worth it, having so many die just for the sake of bringing down four people.

Redemption seemed impossible. But if there was even the slightest chance of it being _achievable_ … Where could she start to even look for forgiveness?

Her ponderings were interrupted when the door suddenly opened, revealing a doctor. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s emblem was on his scrubs. Hastily, Lauren swiped at her cheeks and her nose, trying in vain to hide the miserable state she was in.

The doctor paused at the door, eyeing her with concern behind his glasses. "Miss Brooks," he greeted. "I have to apologize if you're starting to feel the pain. There was no way for us to issue morphine into your system because… well, none of our needles could penetrate your skin."

She rubbed at her eyes, subtly trying to clean out the tears before any of them could fall again. "No need to apologize, doctor," she said. _I deserve it._ "I assume you're here to check up on my health?"

"You assume right, Miss Brooks. Ten days without proper nourishment and hydration isn't exactly what I'd call _risk-free_. I have to check all your vital signs, see if everything is normal."

When he was positioned beside her bed, his hands started roaming, first to the feeding bag, down the tube and to her face. He placed his thumbs beneath her eyes, pulling at her skin. His hands felt overly warm to her, or was she just colder than normal?

She must have flinched, somewhat, for he abruptly stopped and met her gaze, an apologetic look in his eyes. "I'm almost done." He resumed his inspection, and Lauren did her best not to look too indignant. He was only trying to help, after all.

He checked her heart monitor last. When he was finished, he moved a respectable distance away from her bed and crossed his arms. "Well, that's about everything," he said. "Nothing seems to be wrong with you. Your vital signs are perfectly normal. So, I'm guessing that whatever caused your coma is… well, something that's out of my control."

Lauren nodded. "I exhausted myself too much. It must have been your machines that kept me going." Because she couldn't remember any ray of hope in her black hole. No shred of willpower left in her, to live; S.H.I.E.L.D.'s machines had saved her, and she didn't know whether to be indebted or angry.

Grudgingly, she said, "I should thank you, I suppose."

"You're welcome." A smile inched up his face. "Just doing my job, after all. As much as you might think otherwise, Director Fury does care."

She felt her eye twitch in irritation. "He _cares_ because I'm an asset to him. In a few months, he will probably expect me to act as an emissary between S.H. .D. and the demigods. If I were anyone else, he wouldn't have wasted the resources to keep me alive."

The doctor looked at her with patient eyes. "Of course, Miss Brooks. You are entitled to your opinion."

He was polite, and just for that alone, she felt as though she should apologize. Ultimately, she decided against it, but decided against arguing further as well. She changed the subject, pointing at the Nasogastric feeding tube with obvious disdain. "How long does it have to stay on?"

"We can try taking it off tomorrow morning, give you proper food and water. If your body rejects the nutrients, the tube comes back on. If it doesn't, the tube can stay off. Would you like to get on the morphine?"

The question caught her off guard, so much so that it took her a few seconds to formulate a response. "Sorry?"

"If you like, we could get you on painkillers, at least until you feel like you're ready to permanently remove yourself from it."

She remembered what the world had been like before she woke up—her own personal black hole. It hadn't been too bad… Actually, it hadn't been bad at all. The pain was nonexistent in her limbs, and she didn't have to think. She wasn't constantly plagued with thoughts like 'what do I do now?' or 'what would Artemis think?'

The morphine could return her to that temporary rapture.

"How long will it last?" she asked.

"One regular dose usually lasts up to 4 hours. Any higher dosage wouldn't be recommended."

"… But it is possible? A higher dosage, I mean."

The doctor looked at her curiously. "It's possible, yes. But as I said, it isn't recommended—"

"Up the dosage so that it lasts for 6 hours. Please."

"Fury wouldn't approve—"

"Then don't tell him. Don't tell anyone. This is just between you and me." The skepticism remained on his face, and he looked as though he was about to turn away from her. "Please," she added. "Please, just let me sleep for the remainder of the morning. Let me be dead to the world for one more time, before I have to go back out there and deal with everything."

Her words seemed to spark something within him. Pity flashed across his face. Sighing, he dropped his arms. "4 hours. That's all I'll allow," he said. "After that, no more, unless the pain becomes absolutely unbearable."

She allowed a smile to slip onto her face. "Thank you."

"I'll get the painkillers." Without saying anything more, he turned and left.

Lauren switched her gaze to the ceiling. Took a deep breath. She waited and found herself eager for the moment when the doctor would enter the room again with the morphine in hand.

After a few minutes, he did. Pulled the door open and walked into the room, pulling a small bottle of morphine and an oral syringe from his pocket. He raised his eyes to look at her for a moment, as if asking 'are you sure?' She bobbed her head, staring expectantly at the morphine bottle.

Resignedly, the doctor opened the bottle and filled a little more than half of the syringe with the clear solution. He stepped up to Lauren's bed and showed it to her. "You'll have to drink this," he said. "Swallow it immediately, alright?"

She nodded and held her hand out, and he placed the syringe into her palm. Not giving herself the time for second thoughts, she opened her mouth, slipped the tip through her lips, and pressed the plunger down.

The cool liquid had barely touched her tongue before she was forcing it down her throat, letting it travel to her stomach. The feeling of the feeding tube at the back of her throat was unpleasant as her throat contracted, but it was soon over. She handed the syringe back to the doctor.

"You know I'll probably get fired for this if anyone finds out, right?" he said, a crestfallen look on his face.

"Then do not let them find out," she retorted. "Lie. Tell them that I fell asleep because I was exhausted and still in pain."

"That's not what I'm worried about." He slipped the syringe and the morphine back into his pocket, hiding it from prying eyes. "Morphine withdrawal. It's what happens when you very abruptly stop taking morphine. Restlessness, teary eyes, excessive sweating, vomiting, rapid heartbeat—how am I supposed to explain that?"

She looked him in the eye. "Leave that to me. All you have to do now is go outside, and tell everyone who might be waiting there that I don't want any visitors; that I still need as much rest as I can get."

He had slipped his hands into his scrubs' pockets, and he seemed to be fiddling with the objects within. Lauren softly jutted her chin out. Pursing his lips, the doctor left the room.

Lauren's relief was palpable. She relaxed beneath the comforters and closed her eyes, took in the motionlessness surrounding her. The footsteps outside and the steady beeping of her heart monitor were comforting, reminding her that the world was still turning.

Everything was silent. But she knew that it wouldn't remain so for long.

Not for her. Not after everything that she'd done.

After a few minutes, the morphine took effect. Warmth began travelling down her body in waves. The feeling of cloth on her skin wasn't there anymore. The ache in her joints dissipated. She closed her eyes, and then she was floating again—weightless, completely oblivious to the world.

The beeping of her heart monitor seemed to slow down a bit. The bustling sound of footsteps outside stopped altogether. She had fallen asleep.

* * *

 _Review? :)_


	40. Chapter 39 - Awake

While she was floating in nothingness, it became easier to ignore the constant beeping of her heart monitor. Eventually, it just stopped all together. The _tha-thump, tha-thump_ remained, as steady as ever. But it was dull, like how it would've sounded if she were hearing it from underwater.

It was calming, in a way.

It was Nirvana.

And it wasn't supposed to end. Not so quickly. But it did.

Suddenly, instead of resting in a sea of midnight, she found herself standing in front of the Empire State Building. She looked up, took in the sight of dark storm clouds. These weren't caused _venti_. It was caused by something much more familiar, yet no less dangerous.

Upon lowering her gaze, she found a woman standing in front of her, dressed in brown robes. Her eyes were alight with fire.

"Lady Hestia," Lauren greeted.

The goddess only frowned in return. She shook her head slowly, and the pity was clear on her face.

"They aren't happy, Lauren," she said. "Zeus demands for your presence. You are to stand trial for your sins against the Camp. Come up to Olympus before nightfall, unless you want to further Zeus' anger."

Thunder rumbled overhead, deafeningly loud. It sounded vaguely like the roar of a man.

Before Lauren could answer the goddess, the hairs all over her body came to stand on end. The ground trembled. From the heavens came a flash of lightning and—

* * *

Lauren woke up with a gasp. Her skin prickled uncomfortably, and in her sleep, she had broken into a cold sweat. Her heart monitor had gone into a frenzy, rapid and loud. Her head was pounding, and her fingers were wrapped tightly around her blanket.

Before she knew it, the doctor who had given her the morphine burst into the room, eyes wide with urgency. He stopped a few steps into the room, taking in the sight of her sitting up with open eyes.

"What happened?" he said.

"Nightmare," she replied simply. "What time is it?"

"It's 4 in the afternoon. You've been out for four hours."

 _At least the morphine worked._

Cautiously, she pulled the blanket off of herself, twisting on the bed to get her feet on the cold floor. Goosebumps erupted all over her legs, and she gave a visible shudder.

The doctor rushed forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Miss Brooks, you need to lie down—"

"I am fine. These can go." She pulled at the cords that travelled under the collar of her hospital gown, detaching the square patches from her chest. Beside her, the heart monitor flat lined. She stared at it in annoyance. "Turn it off."

The doctor did as she asked, but returned moments later, unrelenting in his pursuit to get her back onto the bed. "Miss Brooks, you aren't well enough to go back out there. You don't have the needed sustenance for your body to function properly—"

"Then give me the needed sustenance _now_. I no longer need this," she said. She placed her fingers around the thin nasogastric tube that travelled into her nose and made to pull it out.

She stopped at the sudden pain that erupted in her sternum, almost as if something had scratched her from the inside.

"Don't do that! Miss Brooks, please!" The doctor stilled her hand, hastily pulling it away from the tube as he, again, tried to coax her back onto the bed. "Please, you can't remove it by yourself. It could cause damage to your esophagus, or worse."

Wheezing a bit, she glared at him half-heartedly. "I have been summoned to Olympus by the lord of the gods himself. It is imperative that you release me from here as quickly as possible."

He was silenced for a moment. From his facial expression, Lauren could discern that her words were yet to settle in. Once they did, he shook his head. "This is way above my pay grade," she heard him mutter. "Alright, I'll remove it, but as long as you promise me that you'll come back here after you speak with… Zeus."

She saw no reason why she couldn't; presuming Zeus didn't sentence her to death. "I promise."

"Okay." He turned away from her and crossed the room, where he retrieved a towel and a roll of tissue paper from a cupboard in the comfort room.

He placed the towel on her chest and handed her the tissue paper. "Tear off a bit of that, to clean your face with later."

She did as he said, watching him from the corner of her eye as he bent down and adjusted the angle of her bed. He went into the comfort room again and washed his hands. When he came back out, he had put on gloves.

"Removing the tube may cause some discomfort for those who aren't used to it. Is that all right with you, Miss Brooks?"

"Just get it out of me."

Nodding once, he unpinned a part of the tube from her gown and removed the adhesive tape on her nose. She could feel the tube moving around inside her, and she shut her eyes to keep from gagging.

"I'm going to start pulling it out now, Miss Brooks. I want you to keep your throat relaxed as much as possible, okay?" She nodded. "Now, take a deep breath and hold it in."

She breathed in deeply. Then, she started to feel the doctor pulling the tube out of her. It was one of the most disturbing things that she had ever felt. She did her best to ignore it, instead focusing her thoughts on Artemis. She would be able to see her again, soon.

Whether the goddess would be happy to see her was up for debate.

"Done," the doctor said.

Lauren opened her eyes and found the tube sitting on her chest, on top of the towel. He quickly disposed of it, and she sighed in relief. Something cold and wet streamed down from her nose; she quickly brought the tissue paper up to her nostrils, stopping the flow and getting as much out as she could.

"There's a toothbrush and mouthwash in the bathroom. A shower, too. I'm sure you want to freshen up before heading up to Olympus."

He was right. She felt sticky all over, her scalp itched, and her mouth… it felt disgusting beyond belief. She didn't know how she hadn't noticed before, but it must have been a blessing in disguise. Now that the doctor had pointed out _hygiene_ , she couldn't get the thought of a shower out of her head.

"Do me a favor, doctor," she said. "Inform Agent Barton of what has transpired, and of where I need to be… I'll be in the comfort room."

"Be careful," he said in reply, to which she rolled her eyes a bit.

As he exited the room, she got off the bed. Her legs wobbled beneath her. For several moments, she struggled for purchase, until finally, she was able to find her balance. Slowly, she entered the bathroom, locked the door behind her, and slipped off the hospital gown. She didn't give so much as a glance at her reflection; afraid of how she'd react when she saw her entirety.

She unbraided the thin, short plait in her hair and, after finger-combing the locks, stepped into the shower.

The water was perfectly warm. It eased her tensed muscles, reminded her of the warmth she'd experienced during her coma… The water rolling down her skin was something incredibly close to bliss.

After scraping, scrubbing, and soaping her body clean of all the grime and dirt that had accumulated, she dried herself off. She brushed her teeth afterwards, and rinsed her mouth with a reasonable amount of mouthwash.

When she stepped out of the bathroom, she was fairly certain that she had never felt so clean in her life.

A set of clothes had been left on her bed, as well as her hunting boots—cleaned and polished. On top of the pile was a small slip of paper. A note. In messy but legible writing, it said:

 _Heard what happened. There's an agent waiting outside. She'll take you to the airfield. Stark's jet awaits. Talk to you later. –C.B._

Lauren's eyebrows went up as she read. If there was an agent and a jet waiting for her, then Fury had to know. And that he had given his consent, which was unexpected. She'd been expecting a challenge.

Placing the paper on the bed, she began dressing herself.

The shirt was a bit loose fitting, but there was a belt for the jeans; the underwear sizes were just right.

Whoever had picked out her clothes had certainly done their research. But it occurred to her that perhaps Barton had picked them out. Him knowing her sizes made her uncomfortable, despite their… friendship.

Yes, she supposed that they were, indeed, friends. Well and truly stuck with each other. And she found that she didn't really mind.

After donning her boots, she slipped Barton's note into her pocket before heading out.

The agent waiting outside was short, but muscular, with brown hair tied into a ponytail. She gazed evenly at Lauren and said, "Follow me, please."

Lauren struggled to follow with her brisk pace, finding that her body wasn't as it was before. Her left knee kept popping with every step, and her balance was far from exceptional. Nevertheless, she made sure to keep her expression calm and collected.

The only time she allowed a crack to appear on her façade was when they stepped onto the airfield. A few meters away, she spotted Clint standing by the Stark jet, the owner and pilot standing beside him. They were talking, and judging from the looks on their faces, it wasn't about anything good.

They stopped when Barton caught sight of her. Lauren was able to catch his final word, reading his lips: "Later." Then, he greeted her with a small smile.

Tony closed the distance and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Welcome back to the land of the living," he said, grinning widely. "You're in great shape, by the way. How much did you lose—four pounds? Five?"

Lauren non-too gently shoved him off, glaring as she did so. To her surprise, he only guffawed. "Sure did miss that," he said. She caught the look that he shared with Clint, but chose to ignore it. There would be time for arguments later.

As she was trailing behind them and onto the jet, she felt a familiar kind of energy graze against her being, like the lightest of currents. Ancient, but terrifyingly powerful.

"Surprise," Barton said, looking at her over his shoulder. She couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped her once she saw what he had brought for her.

There, on the bench attached to the left wall, was the Traust sword— _her_ sword—sheathed and awaiting her touch; beside it, her bow and quiver of arrows.

Lauren picked the sword up, sat down, and placed it on her lap. Its energy trickled into her veins, awakening her senses and rejuvenating her blood. It felt as though the blade was her pool of cool, fresh water after days of desert sand.

On his way to the cockpit, Stark commented, "Yeah, you better be happy. Getting that thing from San Fran wasn't easy, considering you and Legolas are the only two people in the universe who can lift it."

She raised her head to look at the mortal archer, and he shrugged. "Reyna didn't mind much with me walking past the border. Although, that statue head… _thing_ —he needed a lot more convincing."

"Yes, Terminus is known to be very strict at times," she agreed. "But he does his job well."

The jet's engines hummed to life beneath them. Soon, the ground vanished from view as they took into the air. Lauren waited for them to be at a respectable height before asking, "How long will it be before we get to New York?"

"Not too long," said Tony. "We aren't that far from the Big Apple to begin with. Twenty minutes, tops."

Twenty minutes wasn't a very good time at all, but she knew that there was nothing she could do. She drew courage from her sword, kept her eyes glued to the hilt, because she knew what was sure to come… of what she was about to lose, once she was standing in front of the Olympians.

The grim atmosphere surrounding her didn't escape Clint.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She couldn't tell him. She didn't want to. Not yet. Not when there was still a slim chance of her presumption being wrong. She looked him in the eye, just for the sake of convincing him however much she could.

"Nothing at all," she lied.

The skepticism was clear on his face, but he said nothing of it. Lauren refused to add insult to injury. And so the rest of the flight was spent in silence.

* * *

Tony dropped them off at Avengers Tower, since that was the only place where he could land without being ambushed by fans, reporters, photographers and the like.

There was no time for him to call one of his personal drivers to pick her up, so he hailed a taxi for her, handing her the required payment. He didn't follow her in—said something about clearing some stuff up with his girlfriend—but Barton did. Lauren hadn't been expecting it. In return, he cheekily raised an eyebrow.

Knowing better than to object, she rolled her eyes and said to the driver, "Take us to the Empire State Building."

His eyes darted over her shoulder, where her bow and quiver were slung, to the sword on her lap. She had plenty of guesses on what the Mist could have been showing him, and one of them, like with Fury, was a pretty impressive gun.

"No questions, no problem, bud," Clint stated, light warning in his tone.

With a visible gulp, the driver turned away and got them away from Avengers Tower.

After a few minutes, the Empire State came into view, looking golden in the late afternoon sun. Barton made a small noise of approval, but Lauren's heart only sank further. The Traust sword responded to her dread by stopping in its humming, instead sending warm, soothing waves of energy into her limbs.

It helped very little.

The driver dropped them off at the front entrance. Not giving herself the time to feel any more frightened, Lauren gave him the payment and exited the cab. She walked up the steps and through the doors, Barton trailing dutifully behind her.

As was only expected, Olympus' curly-haired guard stood by the receptionist's desk, returned because the gods had returned. She reached over her shoulder to show him her bow—he always needed to see a Greek magical weapon in exchange for clearance, and the Traust sword wasn't really of _Greek_ origin.

He raised a hand to stop her, approaching and muttering into her ear, "They are expecting you."

Lauren nodded grimly. She made for the elevator, tying the Traust sword's scabbard into one of her belt loops and ignoring the confused look that the receptionist was giving her.

A bit of a scuffle started behind her. She turned to find the guard holding Clint Barton back with an outstretched arm; the agent had his chest puffed out a little and his jaw set in a stubborn manner.

"I'm going with her," he growled.

At that moment, in the position he was in, Lauren was suddenly reminded of what he was: a man. She used to see him as nothing else. But he had proven himself to her countless times—saving her when he could have died in the process, and standing by her when he didn't owe her a thing.

She knew he meant well, always did, but what awaited her in the 600th floor was something _she_ had to face. Alone.

In a tone that wouldn't stand for refusal, she said, "Stay here, Barton."

He stared at her, almost pleadingly. And for a fraction of a second, she let him see past her mask, showed him her fear, her doubt—but most of all, her acceptance.

Slowly, his tense frame relaxed.

She gave him a brisk nod before stepping into the elevator.

As the doors closed, she felt as though she had just walked into the jaws of some beast. The automated voice didn't ask for her to state her purpose, probably because the guard was already aware of her presence, and, therefore, so were the Olympians.

The elevator started its ascent, gradually gaining speed. Lauren gripped the elevator's handlebars as the usual shuddering began, accompanied by the flickering of lights.

Eventually, it slowed to a stop. The doors opened, and the sight of Olympus greeted Lauren.

Minor gods and goddesses milled about in the small city. Every building was cast with the soft orange glow of the incoming sunset, making everything seem so much more peaceful than it actually was. She sincerely hoped that it wasn't going to be her last time to see the city of the gods.

She stepped out of the elevator it closed with a soft _ding_ behind her, and then she was walking down the main road of Olympus, a straight path to the palace of the gods.

It was the largest structure in the city, with its massive marble pillars that stood as tall as the largest giant. Magnificent tapestries lined the walls, along with torches and finely carved runes. Lauren remembered that Annabeth had been charged with the reconstruction of everything, after the Second Titanomachy.

It had been a privilege. Something that Lauren wasn't going to get.

The time came when she stood in front of the entrance to the Hall of the Gods. It was then that she regretted her decision in leaving Clint Barton behind, for she found herself in sore need of some encouragement.

She clenched her hands into fists, and steeled her will. And with a deep breath, she pushed the doors open.

* * *

 _A/N: Next chapter comes immediately after this! ;)_


	41. Chapter 40 - Justice

_So this is the last chapter where you'll see things from Lauren's point of view... for a while, at least. (Hint: the story's not over. Whose POV could I possibly continue in though? Hehehe.)_

 _P.S. Three more chapters to go before the end of RATDOTL!_

 _P.S.S. Y'all will hate me for this chapter..._

* * *

The Olympian gods sat on their given thrones, positioned in a U-shape, very similar to how the cabins were arranged in Camp Half-Blood. The female deities sat at the left, the male deities at the right, and at the center sat Zeus and Hera, chins raised and eyes gazing down at her from their full height.

In all her years of training, hunting in the eerie silence of the woods, and killing monsters that some humans could only dream about, nothing had ever helped her get used to the sight of so many powerful beings sitting in one room.

They all towered over her like skyscrapers. With their eyes all trained on her, she felt like she was going to catch fire at any moment.

Vaguely, she could hear the Ophiotaurus splashing around in his aquarium, ignorant of everything that was happening in the world. She wished that she could say the same for herself.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Hestia sitting on a wooden stool by the hearth, just a few ways away from where Hades sat in his throne of shadows. The goddess was looking at her with such pity that Lauren couldn't help but to fear for her future.

Was Zeus planning on killing her as punishment… or worse?

She found herself rooted to the spot in absolute fear. Desperately, she searched the faces of the male Olympians and found her father, who was sat on his throne made of pure gold.

Apollo found her gaze, almost happily, and very subtly nodded to the center of their semicircle. Lauren remembered there to be a large slab, where all the war arrangements often took place, but it was not there. It was gone, removed, no doubt because it would only conceal her from the view of the gods.

Slowly, she walked towards the empty space.

So many emotions raged inside her that she didn't know how to present herself—as the veteran who had played a large hand in defeating the enemy, or the humbled soldier prepared to meet her punishment? Should she hold her head high, or keep her eyes on the ground? Should she walk at a warrior's pace, with a warrior's stance—or keep it slow, modest?

Ultimately, she kept her head up. Not so much as to look like a boasting hog, but just enough to show that she hadn't lost her self-respect. She kept at a reasonable pace, with reasonably wide strides, like how she would always walk when under Artemis's scrutiny.

It all proved for naught, in the end. The dignified air that she had somehow mustered around her, like a shield, crumbled to dust. She stood there before the gods, feeling as naked as a babe.

And when she met the eyes of her mistress, she was sure that she had never felt so miserable in her life.

Somehow, she found it in herself to kneel, to place one hand on the grip of her sword, leave the other one dangling, and bow her head.

"My lords and ladies," she greeted. "Lord Zeus, you summoned me?"

"Indeed, I did," the Olympian ruler said, his voice like thunder in the otherwise-still room.

Usually, when Zeus replied to someone in such an amiable manner, it meant that that someone was allowed to be at ease. As was the situation, Lauren made to stand. But Zeus' booming voice stopped her.

"Do not rise, Lauren Brooks," he commanded. "You will stay as you are for the remainder of this trial."

She gulped back the growing lump in her throat. "Trial?"

"I'm sure you've already figured it out, as perceptive as you are." The corner of his lip curled upwards in a humorless smile. "You, daughter of Apollo and Hunter of Artemis, have been charged with high treason against the Western civilization, the murder of countless demigods, and knowingly divulging information that otherwise has always been kept a secret from mortals. How do you plead?"

There was no point in lying. That was the hard fact. As she fought to keep from vomiting on the spot, she replied, "Guilty of all charges, Lord Zeus."

It was the answer that had been expected of her. She knew by the way some of the gods shared looks with each other, or how Apollo's shoulders fell in a sigh, or how Artemis' jaw started ticking.

Zeus tapped the arm of his throne in a distinct pattern. "Since you've admitted your faults so willingly, I propose that this no longer be a trial, but a hearing," he said. "Explain why you did what you did, and if your reasons carry enough weight, then perhaps your punishment will be… somewhat mitigated."

Lauren couldn't help but to ask, "What is the original punishment?"

The thunder god only smiled at her. There was nothing uplifting about it, only proving to Lauren that her punishment was possibly up there with Prometheus' or Atlas'. Artemis had undoubtedly had a say in it; she could be very imaginative when it came to dealing justice.

But was she truly so angry with Lauren that she would make her suffer for the rest of her life, after everything they'd gone through?

Lauren recalled the sleepless nights that she'd had during her first few weeks under Chiron's care. She recalled her joy when she'd hit the center of the target for the very first time using a bow. She recalled how she was much more comfortable with knives than with a sword. She recalled how _odd_ everything felt while she was at Camp; she had found a safe haven there, but something had been missing.

Then, Artemis had come—glowing like a solar flare—with her followers behind her. A moment of epiphany, and then Lauren was lost.

Artemis had given her a jacket of her own, presented her with a bow that, at the time, had seemed to be made out of pure starlight.

Artemis had given her a home.

Surely the goddess hadn't forgotten all their pleasant times together. Or had her affections for Lauren, which she'd always made apparent, gotten buried under all the lives that Lauren had taken?

Lauren licked her lips, eyes downcast as she gathered her thoughts. Rather uncertainly, she began her address.

"When I first woke up in Nick Fury's interrogation room, I had absolutely no intention of telling them anything about the demigods," she said. "But then the Aesir, Thor, came. He had knowledge about the Hunters of Artemis, about the last Giant War, about _everything_. I knew that there was no way of escaping without furthering Fury's ire, which would therefore endanger Ethan's safety… So I had Thor explain to the Avengers all the necessary details about the Western civilization."

She didn't miss how Hera's eye twitched, or how her lips were pursed. Lauren hesitated for a moment, thinking over her next words.

"Thor is a friend of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s; he is allies with Nick Fury. If I didn't tell them, they would have found it out anyway. I decided that it would be best for it to be done under my watch. I also explained what was happening with the Fleece, the looming threat of Khione, and Orion's resurrection… I don't regret my decision."

Zeus raised an eyebrow. "Not even a little bit?"

"Without their help, _all_ of this,"—she gestured around her, "—everything that we've ever worked for, would be in ashes. If I was given the chance, I would choose the same path."

An amused kind of glint appeared in his eye as he waved a hand. "Proceed."

She was satisfied with what she had said—honest, filtered, and, from the looks of it, effective. But then she'd been convicted of murder. How was she going to escape from that?

There was no way to escape, she knew. Only, as Zeus had said, to _mitigate_.

"The day after Agent Barton and I retrieved Orion's bane, the Fleece malfunctioned again, and the camp was attacked," she said. "It was the worst that had come to pass. There were giants, wolves, _empousai_ , _Scythian dracaenae_ … Many Hunters perished in the fight."

The ghosts of Kali and Aria appeared before her. They'd been sisters, born to Hermes. Lauren could feel the messenger god's sorrow coming off of him in spades, but he said nothing more on the matter, so she didn't either.

A shudder ran down her spine as memories of the event came to mind: Kali's bloodstained parka, and Aria's screams. Risking a glance upwards, she saw that a shadow had settled over Artemis' face. A shadow of sadness, pain, and perhaps even regret. Lauren couldn't be sure.

"Tyr first came in the midst of the fighting," she continued dejectedly. Her next words were the hardest to say. "He had Jill. She tried _fearlessly_ to fight back, but he proved too much for her… She died by his hands."

Hephaestus, Jill's father, raised his chin in what seemed to be an act of pride. For a moment, Lauren was stunned by his lack of grief; the only sign that she could see of his mourning was in his eyes, yet the fire of self-righteousness accompanied even that.

And then it came to her.

While she'd been fighting Orion, Apollo had contacted her, saying that Tyr was dead and that it was the perfect opening. She couldn't remember ever questioning how he died. Before she'd travelled to New Rome, Jason had said that it was too risky to take on Tyr with Nico injured.

Apollo's message about Tyr's death arrived just a minute after he said that the gods were coming.

Jason and the others couldn't have defeated Tyr alone, because really, Lauren hadn't done much to weaken Orion. The only way they could have overpowered Tyr was if an extra hand had come to help…

"You killed Tyr," Lauren said, staring at Hephaestus.

The blacksmith god tearfully returned her gaze. "I avenged my daughter."

"Yes…" She trailed off, processing the knowledge that she'd received. Hephaestus had avenged Jill, killed the man who had _murdered_ her—something that Lauren hadn't been able to do.

Zeus cleared his throat and raised an expectant eyebrow. Lauren blinked as she ducked her head to hide her face, taking a moment to gather her thoughts.

"Tyr wanted the sword," she recounted, "Said that if I didn't give it to him, he would kill everyone at the Camp. At first, I refused… but then he killed Ethan." She raised her head to look at Apollo. "The sword wouldn't accept Tyr, though, so he forced my hand, told me to come with him to their camp. I went without the slightest intention of _ever_ killing for him. And then…"

Her throat closed up; she steeled herself for what she was about to say next.

"Then he started killing humans," she said through gritted teeth. "The residents who were unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Occasionally, he would make their suffering last. Make it slow and painful. He made me watch. He said that it was to be my penance for going behind his back, for bathing in the Styx.

"I understood his thirst for the blood of the demigods, for his enemies, for those who opposed him—but these were _innocents_." She fiercely shook her head. "I knew that he'd do the same to whoever survived the war, if I continued to refuse him… I couldn't allow myself to take that chance, so I gave in."

Everything else came tumbling out in a mess of words, stutters, and so many conflicting emotions that she hadn't allowed herself to feel until then.

"I went into battle and killed my own brethren, thinking that I was doing them a favor, of making it quick and easy. But I was wrong. I was _weak_. I—I should have listened to you." She looked to Apollo again. "So much blood is on my hands. I know that all of that could have been prevented. If I hadn't sided with Tyr, their deaths would have remained a probability. I realize that now. They could still be alive."

Something wet dripped onto the back of her hand. Her eyes were overflowing with tears.

"Their faces have haunted me, and I know that I deserve it. Every single shade of guilt." She swiped at her eyes and squared her shoulders in an effort to regain some semblance of poise.

"I cannot hope to erase my past crimes," she said. "And I won't ask for you to mitigate my punishment. But I stand here to proclaim that I deeply regret all that I've done, and that I am ready for any form of penance, if it will atone for my offenses against the Western civilization."

It sounded wrong to her ears, unfitting and hasty. But she could think of nothing else to say without promptly bursting into a sobbing mess, something she refused to do in front of the gods. Artemis would be even more upset with her, and she didn't think she could stand that.

For a while, the throne room was silent. Lauren composed herself, still kneeling on the ground. When she looked up, she found that the gods were exchanging long, meaningful glances at one another. She knew that they were speaking telepathically, figuring out exactly what they wanted to do with her.

In the end, it was Hera who spoke.

Her face was blank, devoid of any emotion, but there was _something_ in her voice. Lauren figured that the goddess did, indeed, care more than she liked to admit.

"You played a large hand in the extermination of Orion, and for that, we are indebted," said Hera. "And we will pay that debt today. It, along with your heartfelt discourse, is the only thing that has convinced us to mitigate your punishment. But to what extent it will be mitigated shall be decided by only one person in this room."

"Who?" Lauren asked, and it was Artemis who answered: "Me."

As much as she hated to admit it, Lauren found little relief in the fact that it was Artemis who was going to decide what her punishment would be. They were quite possibly on the worst of terms in their relationship.

"I will not kill you, Lauren," Artemis said, "Nor will I have you tortured. My respect and affection for you remain to this day, but my punishment will still have you lamenting the choices you have made."

"And what punishment would you lay upon me, milady?" she asked, hoping beyond hope that Artemis' esteem in her would make a difference.

Nothing in the world could have prepared her for the words that left the goddess' mouth next.

"I banish you from the safety of camp borders, both Greek and Roman alike, and…" Her gaze hardened. "And I banish you from the Hunt."

As soon as the words were spoken, Artemis brought her hand up, held it in front of her, and slowly pulled it back with strained fingers, almost as if she'd taken hold of something.

It was like Lauren's strength was being drained out of her, like how water was squeezed from a towel. Artemis herself was repossessing her Blessing. The core of Lauren's being, the _very thing_ that she'd been relying on for more than twenty years, was being tunneled out of her.

"No," she sobbed.

A sudden wave of fatigue washed over her, and she fell onto her hands and knees, one elbow on the ground as she tried, in vain, to pull herself back up. The weight of the bow on her back—what had comforted her several times before in her life—disappeared. The same went for the quiver of silver arrows.

"Artemis…" She stretched her arm out in the direction of the goddess, fervently praying to her, in her mind, not to finish the procedure.

All at once, the aching stopped.

"It is done," Artemis said.

Something had changed in her voice, but Lauren couldn't bring herself to notice. She remained on the floor, like a broken twig, hands clenched in desperation. "I'll do anything— _anything_. Just don't send me away."

"You are no longer allowed to set foot in Camp Half-Blood, as well as the Romans' Camp Jupiter," Artemis said. "In the same respect, you are no longer allowed to participate in my Hunt. If you ever come across either my Hunters or me, you will not speak with them, and will be advised to turn and go in the opposite direction immediately."

"Artemis, _please_!"

"We have agreed to let you keep your Achilles Heel, which is both a blessing and a curse of the Styx, as it always has been. In the same prospect, we have also agreed not to grant you the option of…" The goddess seemed to hesitate for a moment, the icy look on her face wavering. "… Of suicide."

Lauren was stunned into silence.

Artemis cleared her throat. "Should you ever take your own life, you will be brought into the Underworld and subjected to suffer 100 years in The Fields of Punishment, and then carry on into the Fields of Asphodel for the remainder of eternity. You will never be permitted into Elysium."

It was clear that the goddess had no plans on listening to her pleas. The details of her punishment had been recited, making it legitimate and perpetual. The gods wouldn't take it back, not from the looks of things.

Shakily, Lauren rose from the floor and got to her feet. But she couldn't bring herself to raise her eyes. The tears had stopped, yet she was trembling with despair and lost hope.

"That is my final verdict. This hearing is over. You may go to Camp Half-Blood for one last time, to gather your things and say your goodbyes, but after that, you will no longer have license for entry." Artemis waved her hand in an unfeeling manner, but her tone of voice said differently. "Go."

Lauren found the resolve to look up. She met Artemis' silver eyes, and couldn't be sure whether it was sparkling with tears or satisfaction. She felt as if she didn't know her anymore. One of her dearest friends, her most esteemed idol, and her mother in all but blood—she had stripped her of everything she had ever known; left her with a sword of a different kind, a curse, and an ever advancing mortal world that she barely knew anything about.

"Artemis," Lauren began, willing to try again.

" _Go_ ," the goddess repeated. The bite had returned to her voice. She had closed herself off again; the frailty that had briefly appeared in her eyes was replaced with a burning flame. Lauren had seen it many times before, when the goddess was angry, but that look had never been pointed at Lauren. Not until now.

And though Lauren didn't want to anger her further, she couldn't bring herself to move. Her mind willed her to turn around and walk away, but her body resisted.

Artemis pursed her lips and placed her hands on the armrests of her throne, as if to rise. That was when her brother stepped in.

In a flash of golden light, he disappeared from his throne and reappeared in front of Lauren. She blinked, stepping back in surprise.

"Come on, kiddo," Apollo said, smiling at her. It was obviously supposed to be the reassuring kind of smile; the bright smile that had always sparked something in Lauren, which she almost always promptly hid.

But the smile did nothing to steady her this time. She could make out the sadness in his gaze, the disappointment. There was a warning there too. So, when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, she let him take her away from the Hall of the Gods.

* * *

Once they were outside, the doors shut behind them, as if they had a mind of their own. Lauren barely noticed. She was staring out across the city, so easy to see everything it had to offer given the height on which she was standing.

Apollo sighed, saying, "You're in shock."

She didn't know what to say. Her mind was still trying to process exactly what just happened. In the end, she just shook her head.

"Yeah you are," he muttered, squeezing her shoulder. "Look, Lauren, I'll try to answer as much of your questions as I can, but you can't stay here for much longer. If you do, Zeus might throw you out, and the impact won't exactly be painless."

Questions. What questions did she have?

"Why?" she ended up asking, and Apollo breathed in sharply.

"I can answer anything but _that_ question. Come on, hit me again." He stepped away and clapped his hands, rubbing his palms together in a sort of eager motion.

Lauren regarded him with sad eyes. "Does she hate me?"

Again, he breathed in sharply. "No, no, I wouldn't say that," he said. "I'd say that she just knows that banishing you from the Hunt is the worst thing she could ever do to you, so she did it."

"So she _does_ hate me."

"She wants you to _learn_. They're called _punishments_ for a reason, Lauren."

He was speaking so casually with her, as if his family hadn't just run her out of the only two places where demigods could be safe. Slowly, her despair turned into anger. The switch must have been obvious, for Apollo raised his hands in a halting gesture.

"Hey now," he said. "Don't get mad. And let's not do anything rash like, I don't know, plotting for the destruction of Olympus and all that. It's become a cliché, and let's face it—revenge doesn't really suit you, Lauren."

"How can't I be mad?" she argued. "Monsters will be running me down left and right because of my banishment from Camp Half-Blood. You've all basically left me to die!"

He snapped his fingers, and his face brightened up a bit with triumph.

"That's where you're wrong, because _that_ —" He pointed at the Traust sword on her hip, "—is now a permanent fixture on you. It's got enough Norse elements in it that it'll mask your scent from monsters." At the dubious look on her face, he added, "You didn't really think that it was _luck_ that kept you and Hawkeye safe while you were walking around in Crete after killing that scorpion, did you?"

She had thought that, actually. And she had also thought that the gods knew nothing about what had been happening down on earth while they were locked away in Olympus.

But if they hadn't banished her for the sake of getting her on the run, then what had they banished her for?

She looked at Apollo again, lips pursed in a deep frown. It was as if he could read her mind, sometimes.

"Most of the time, we gods like to keep our plans under wraps. Your banishment is one of the more transparent ones," he explained. "Forcing you to lead a miserable life won't exactly keep us on your good side. After what happened with that Castellan boy, the last thing we want is to have you as an enemy."

"Then why throw me out of my home?" she asked.

"Redemption, Lauren." The ghost of a smile appeared on his face, and he came to stand in front of her once more, gripping her shoulders with gentle hands. "Do enough good things in your life that can make up for the bad, so that when you die… well, there'll be a larger chance of you getting into Elysium, then, instead of now."

"So you want me to spend the rest of my life killing monsters, occasionally the ones that are actually large and dangerous enough to mean anything?"

He shrugged. "Monsters or, you know, just bad guys in general."

With a frown, she said, "I'm not a one-man army, Lord Apollo."

" _Dad_ ," he corrected. "And who said anything about a one-man army? From what I recall, there are a few personalities in your group; most of whom are good-looking, and all of whom are annoying."

It took a moment for her to understand what he was trying to say, and her frustration with the gods gave way for incredulity.

"The Avengers?"

"Yeah, I mean, you've been getting along with them fine. And the chemistry is just…" He imitated the sound of an explosion. "They could help you set your priorities straight."

Lauren knew that that was an impossible notion, and she was about to explain such to Apollo when, suddenly, lightning streaked across the darkening sky. Behind them, there came a loud banging sound from within the Hall of the Gods, like the blunt end of a large staff striking the ground.

Apollo sighed. "That's my cue."

"But—"

"I'm sorry, Lauren, but you need to leave Olympus now." He pulled her in and placed a soft, chaste kiss on her forehead. The act was so unexpected that Lauren could only stare. "You'll figure things out. I know you will," he murmured. "Now…" He made a shooing motion.

There was another streak of lightning, and Lauren knew better than to tarry any longer.

Reluctantly, she turned away from her father and began the trek back to the elevator, leaving the city of Olympus behind her.


	42. Chapter 41 - Repairman - Clint (Part 1)

Clint knew something was wrong the moment Lauren stepped out of the elevator. Her bow was gone; her quiver was gone; instead of wearing her hunting boots, she wore a pair of white sneakers, and the look on her face was something akin to a kicked puppy, but much, much worse.

It didn't escape his attention that her eyes were red and puffy too.

"What the hell happened?" he said, approaching her cautiously. Early on in their relationship, he'd found out that speaking with her while she was upset was much like walking on a bridge over troubled water—particularly if that bridge was old and corroded, and likely to fall apart at any moment.

She raised her head and met his gaze for a fraction of a second, and he saw everything he needed to see. Whatever had happened in Olympus had broken her, only furthering the toll of the war on her.

"Not now, Clint," she muttered, striding past him and out of the building.

Dutifully, he trailed behind her. He matched her pace and craned his neck, trying to get her to look him in the eye; he knew it was impossible, but he wanted to try. "Hey, what happened?" he asked again, touching her shoulder. "Lauren, talk to me."

" _I said not now!_ " She grabbed his hand and shoved it away with more force than was necessary. Her eyes were blazing, and her nostrils were flaring. Clint had seen that look before; she got it every time she spoke about Orion. But he could read into her emotions better than anyone, and he saw the lingering pain in her eyes, heard the shakiness in her voice. If he didn't know better, he'd think that she was going to start crying right then and there. But that wasn't how Lauren's mind worked.

Swiftly turning away from him, she stretched her arm out and hailed a cab.

Just as the taxi was pulling up, a stranger walked up to her, coming closer than was necessary, and stared at her. "Is there a problem here, miss?" he said.

Clint could sense the malice in him, the way he had walked towards her and voiced his question, the way his lips turned up, the way his eyes sparkled as if he had just cornered a vulnerable little pup. But Clint knew that Lauren sensed it too.

He saw her give the man a murderous look before entering the cab. Clint grabbed the stranger's shoulder and pushed him away from the car, pointing an accusing finger—"Back off, buddy,"—and then followed Lauren into the taxi.

The ride back to Avengers Tower was spent in silence. Lauren sat by the window, staring out as cars drove by. Clint observed her from the other side of the cab. Her shoulders were slumped forward, and she had her hands in-between her knees, knuckles close together but not quite touching. Clint couldn't know for sure what could've brought her down so much, but he had a few guesses, and one might have been correct, but he deeply wished that it wasn't.

Subconsciously, almost on instinct, he moved closer to her so that their knees were touching. He saw her stiffen a bit, but she otherwise didn't question the contact. Then, slowly, like how he would with a wounded animal, he allowed his hand to crawl towards hers. He slipped a finger over her left wrist and pulled so that her hand was on her lap.

By that time, she had decided that his actions were worthy of her attention. Turning away from the window, she looked down as he linked their fingers together and squeezed. Clint watched anxiously for her reaction.

Her eyebrows furrowed together, and the corners of her lips quivered, as if she didn't know whether it was appropriate to smile or not. In the end, she just returned her gaze to the cars droning by outside. A disappointed sigh started in Clint's chest, but it stopped short when she suddenly gave his hand a long, firm squeeze. She didn't let go, so he didn't either.

* * *

At Lauren's request, Tony started up the jet again and flew them over to Camp Half-Blood, going with her vague explanation that was "I have to tie up some loose ends." To Clint's relief, Tony didn't question her. Luckily, the billionaire was perceptive enough to know that she might just murder him if he annoyed her too much.

"Stay here," she said to the both of them, once they landed. "I don't want things to get more complicated than they have to be." It was the first rational sentence that Clint had heard from her ever since she got down from Olympus.

During the course of the two hours that she was gone, Clint explained the situation to a much-confused Iron Man, and they tossed around their ideas on why she was so upset. In the end, they came to the same conclusion. Clint didn't want to believe it, but he knew that it was entirely possible. Tony kept pushing his opinions until Clint had no choice but to accept the fact.

When Lauren returned, she had a large hiking backpack over her shoulders, and a proper scabbard for her sword hanging by her hip. A bow and quiver of arrows was slung over her shoulder, but it was a different set from what he was used to seeing on her.

She sat down in front of Stark's TV and dropped the backpack beside her. From the amount of noise it made, along with the deep _thud_ , Clint could guess that there was a considerable amount of paraphernalia inside.

He came to sit beside Lauren as Tony went up to the cockpit and restarted the engine. About a minute into their flight, Lauren shifted on the couch and said in a quiet voice, "Could you play the… _DVD_ again?"

Clint looked at her. "Star Wars?"

She nodded.

Wordlessly, he got up, retrieved the disk, and inserted it into Tony's DVD player. He turned on the television and waited for the familiar orchestra music to start playing, for the sight of 20th Century Fox's label to fill the screen, before, very subtly, turning his eyes on Lauren.

Her gaze was fixated on the screen, unmoving, unblinking, yet she held a faraway look to her face. Clint knew that she was in very deep thought, and that she'd wanted the movie as background noise, a sort of distraction, but a reminder as well—to keep her grounded. He knew because he'd used to do the same, many years ago, when he was still getting used to life with S.H.I.E.L.D.

He must have been staring pretty hard, because she noticed eventually. He turned away, pretending to be interested in the movie, before she could catch his eyes on her. When she looked away and went back into her own little world, Clint furiously thought of ways on how he could possibly make things easier for her.

Halfway into their flight back to the Tower, the jet's radio began spewing out some static, but Clint could discern that someone was speaking on the other end. Tony adjusted some knobs and pressed some buttons, and then the voice on the end of the line became clearer. It was Natasha.

 _"Stark,"_ she said with an irritated tone. _"Stark, where the hell are you? Do you copy?"_

"Yo, what's got your web in a twist, Widow?" Tony replied.

Clint expected Lauren to, at the very least, sigh, roll her eyes, or start tapping her knee in aggravation. Instead, the corner of her lip twitched upwards. "I see Chiron was able to bring Agent Romanoff back into good condition," she said, "As he did with the others."

"Yeah," Barton said, not knowing what else to say.

She just nodded and then directed her attention to Natasha's words. Pursing his lips, Clint did the same.

" _Just a head's up for the kid,"_ said Natasha. _"There are a couple of senior agents waiting for her in the council room. They're from pretty high up, so I'd take 'em seriously. Fury and Coulson are there too."_

Tony scoffed. "What, do they want to see Mewmew #2?"

" _They just said that they wanted to talk."_ She didn't need to say more to make them understand what it was they wanted to talk about. They wanted to talk about demigods, and the Olympians, and exactly what the hell happened in New York and San Francisco.

"'Kay, we're on our way back. Over and out." Tony flipped a switch and turned the radio off before Natasha could say more. "Kid, d'you hear that?" he called over his shoulder.

"Yes," Lauren said with a small sigh. "It's fine. The sooner I get it over with, the better."

Once her face took on the familiar distant expression, Clint shared a rather disturbed look with Stark. That wasn't something the regular Lauren would say. The regular Lauren would be pissed off and struggle to keep from talking with the agents, struggle to keep the details as hidden as possible. Of course, S.H.I.E.L.D. would get the needed information eventually.

But Clint had expected more tenacity from Lauren.

When everything was over and done with, and they were left to do as they pleased, he would ask her about it—not for his sake, but for hers.

* * *

Clint and Tony had been allowed into the council room, which was a surprise in itself. Clint had thought that it was going to be a private interrogation. That obviously wasn't the case, considering the rest of the Avengers were waiting in the room as well.

Natasha, Steve, and Bruce sat in folding chairs at one side of the room, a few ways behind the long table where the small group of senior agents—Agents Rider, Craig, Sloan and Scott, including Coulson and Director Fury—sat. Across from them was a lone chair sitting in the empty side of the room, and this was where Lauren was directed to sit.

Clint moved to sit beside Natasha, bemused by the turn of events. "Why are we here?" he asked.

"Fury said that we'll be asked questions too, when they're done with her," said Natasha. "Mostly to confirm Lauren's statements. If we're lucky, they'll ask for our opinions too."

"What happens if they don't like what they hear?"

She just looked at him in a way that said, 'Let's hope it won't come to that.'

Before they could say more on the matter, Agent Rider leaned forward and clasped his hands on the table in front of him. "The doctors said that they need you back in the medical ward as soon as possible, so—"

"The same doctor who has taken care of me for the past week?" Lauren interrupted with a frown.

"Yes," said Fury.

"I thought he works in one of your facilities?"

"We transferred him here, to Avengers Tower, for your benefit. I know that you'd rather stay with friends." He must not have been expecting a thank you, because he plowed on without giving her a chance to say anything else. "We'll make this quick."

He nodded at Agent Rider, who cleared his throat and began the official interrogation.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. has been acting in the best interest of Earth for the better part of 70 years now," he said. "So when we find out about not one, but _two_ civilizations that majorly consist of _children_ , that are hidden from a normal human's sight—well, naturally, we'd want to tie off any loose ends before things have the chance to get ugly."

A humorless smile inched up Lauren's face. "You want to find out if we're dangerous or not." Her statement was met with nods from the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. She sighed heavily. "I will not deny that there have been those of my kin who chose to turn away from the light, but there have always been more of those who choose to oppose the forces of evil. Like your organization, we also act in the best interest of this world. This is our home as well as yours, though demigods have been here longer than you."

"True," Agent Scott spoke up. "But have they always been good?"

"There were unfortunate cases, such as Adolf Hitler and Edward Teach, but again, there were more of the good ones, such as George Washington, Amelia Earhart, and even William Shakespeare."

Agent Sloan made a noise of disbelief. "You mean to say that Hitler and George Washington were half-god?"

Even Clint couldn't help but to stare. _Seriously?_

Lauren nodded. "Sons of Hades and Athena, respectively."

"Back to the matter at hand," Fury interjected, being the one who had recovered the fastest. "Can we trust you enough to leave your kind be? What if another Adolf Hitler comes along? We don't want to risk another World War."

"Agents, with all due respect, a World War is the least of your problems. But you can't know, can you? Because you cannot see past the Mist, unlike us." A defensive tone had edged into her voice. "If it weren't for us demigods, Earth and the rest of the Nine Realms would be under the control of beings who wouldn't care less about what happened to humanity."

"I'm sorry, Miss Brooks," said Rider, "But last I heard, you were fighting for Orion when the war began. Agent Barton reported that you changed sides halfway through. Was that because you knew that you were on the losing end of the table?"

Clint grew tense in his seat. As he stared, Lauren's eyes flicked over to him, and stayed there for several seconds before returning to the small council.

Her gaze was on Agent Sloan, who had leaned forward in her chair and was speaking to her. "What Agent Rider means to say is: how can we know for sure that you won't do the same with S.H.I.E.L.D.? Switch sides for your own benefit?"

Lauren pursed her lips. A muscle in her jaw jumped. "Think what you will of my actions, but what I did was not for my own benefit," she said boldly. "And if you feel as if I have not received a criminal's punishment, then feel free to speak with the gods, for they gave their penalty no more than an hour ago."

Frowning, Clint craned his neck to see Stark, and he saw that he was just as bewildered as he was. What kind of punishment had the gods exacted on Lauren to make her seem so… ruined?

"I don't care if you choose not to trust me," she was saying, "But you cannot choose the same fate for all demigods. If another war comes—which is truly inevitable—you will want them fighting on your side. Hidden from the public, yes, but it is for the best. Always has been. America has been the home of Olympus for a very long time now, and the gods will do everything in their power to protect their hearth. So you have them on your side as well. Should you choose to exterminate us, or run us out of the country, or whatever method you're contemplating, the gods—"

"Won't be happy about it," Sloan finished. She turned her head slightly and regarded the rest of her fellow agents. From what Clint could see of her face, she seemed satisfied with Lauren's answers.

For a while, the room was filled with only the hushed mutterings of the small council. Fury had a finger resting thoughtfully on his chin; Coulson, as always, watched everything with crinkled eyes. Clint had known where the agent stood on the matter ever since they first captured Lauren. He was in favor of the demigods, but ultimately, the choice remained with The Director.

And so Clint watched as Rider and Craig—the only two who were unconvinced—spoke with Fury, trying to force their opinions onto him. Lauren remained still in her seat, taking in everything with a blank look on her face. Clint didn't know what to make of it.

"Very well, Miss Brooks," The Director finally said. "We'll leave the demigods undisturbed. The camps can go about their business with no argument from me. But when the time comes that S.H.I.E.L.D. will need their aid, they _will_ come. Correct?"

Lauren nodded once.

Nick stared at her for another minute or so before waving his hand. "You are dismissed, Miss Brooks. Return to the medical ward. Doctor Gilbert has been looking for you."

Wordlessly, she got up and left, without so much as a second glance at the small council, or Clint, or any of the Avengers.

Clint made a move to follow her, but Agent Coulson's voice stopped him. It was the first time he'd spoken during the meeting.

"Not so fast, Agent Barton." He smiled. "We still have some questions for the team. Standard protocol. You understand."

" _I_ trust her, Coulson," Clint retorted, not being able to stop the words in time. "Isn't that enough?"

The agent just looked at him. Beside him, Fury sighed and nodded to where the rest of the Avengers sat. "Sit," he said.

Clint had no choice but to do as he said, trying to keep the annoyance off his face as the small council proceeded to interrogate the lot of them.

* * *

The sun was on its way down when The Avengers were finally dismissed from the council room.

The senior agents had asked them to repeat the events during the battle yet again, to see if everything matched up. Surprisingly, they had also been asked for their opinions on the subject of demigods. Everyone spoke in favor of the camps, to the disappointment of Agent Rider. After a few more minutes of Fury's "standard protocol", they had been allowed to leave the room. Clint headed straight for the medical ward.

He found Lauren lying in bed with a tray of food on her lap. The upper portion of the mattress had been raised, so she could eat properly. But it looked as though she hadn't taken a single bite. Clint couldn't blame her, really—they had given her a bowl of oatmeal, and it didn't look to be seasoned with anything at all—but he knew that she had to eat, or she would never get her strength back.

He told her such, and she leaned her head back and kept staring at the ceiling. "I'm not hungry," she said.

"Bullshit," he replied. A small frown appeared on her face upon hearing the profanity. It was the only sign of emotion that she'd shown since walking out of the council room. "Lauren, if you don't eat something, they'll put you back on a feeding tube. Do you want that?"

Her frown deepened, and he was able to catch an almost imperceptible shake of her head. He tried to ignore how thin her wrist had become as she picked up the spoon and had a bite of the oatmeal. Her nose crinkled, but she swallowed anyway.

"What's it taste like?" he asked, in an effort to keep her talking.

"Like wet dirt," she said.

He laughed. "Don't worry. As soon as your stomach can take it, they'll start feeding you real food. And the cooks here can make mean apple pies."

"I'll trust your word on that."

She took another bite, and then about a minute afterwards, she took another, and then another, and then another. The evening went on like that, with her slowly but surely finishing her food, and Clint doing his best to make small talk—anything to keep her from thinking too much.

The days flew by, and the two of them established a routine. Every mealtime, Clint would bring two trays of food into her room. One for her and one for himself. They would eat together, with Clint either recounting what had happened after Orion was killed, or telling stories of the events that happened outside her little hospital room.

After the fourth day, Lauren must have realized that Clint wasn't going to be leaving her alone any time soon. She started talking more, adding actual opinions into a conversation. Sometimes, a smile would light up her face, but it was always fleeting. So far, Clint hadn't been able to draw a laugh out of her.

But then, one day, the unavoidable thing happened. Clint was summoned to Fury's office in the nearest S.H.I.E.L.D. facility, and the head agent gave him a mission that required him to fly out to Europe.

Clint had always been a good agent. He followed the rules, followed protocol; S.H.I.E.L.D.'s enemies were his enemies, and whatever target they gave him, he would take down. But Fury, of all people, should have noticed Clint's progress with Lauren. He was drawing her out of the hole that she had dug for herself, and had been succeeding so far.

Fury wasn't happy with what he saw in one of his best agents, apparently.

"The mission will require three days from you, Agent Barton—two, if you use your time wisely," he said. "If your progress with Miss Brooks is as well as you've described, then she should be able to take care of herself until you return."

"Why can't you send Tasha instead?"

"Miss Romanoff is in Rio, at the moment, busy with her _own_ mission." Fury must have noticed the indignant fire in Clint's eyes. He hardened his gaze. "I am still your boss and your employer, Agent Barton. Do as I say, or I'll give you a mission that'll keep you away for a week."

That was that. Clint knew better than to argue any further. Whenever Fury made threats like that, it was best not to call his bluff.

So Clint told Lauren the news. She took it pretty well, and he didn't know whether to be happy or disappointed that she was fine with him being gone.

He said his goodbyes, gave Laura a call as per usual, and started packing his things, planning to arrive in Monaco by nightfall. It would give him ample time to sort out his schedule for the following days, polish everything so that the mission would go smoothly. It wasn't a very difficult mission either—just reconnaissance. But the security was going to be considerably tight, from what he had gathered from Fury, hence why he had been assigned for the job.

The days passed quickly. Clint, as he always did whenever he was out on the field, focused solely on the mission at hand. When he wasn't resting, his mind worked like a well-oiled machine, getting him wherever he needed to go, and recalibrating whenever a change came. And when he was resting, safe in his mildly cheap motel room, he was either planning or reading important files.

But he found that thoughts of Lauren strayed into his mind more often than he could have hoped. Was she safe? Was she recovering well without him? He would catch himself before he got too far-gone, but the fact always remained that he was worried about her, and it was messing with him.

Thankfully, he got the mission done with minimal screw-ups. Soon he found himself on an early morning flight back to America. He placed his bag by his feet, knowing better than to place it in the stowage bins, where anyone could get a look at its contents.

He had purchased a window seat and was taking advantage of the view; stared out at the sky, purple and on the verge of turning completely blue; took in the sunlight streaming through the orange clouds. He was thankful that all those things were still there.

God only knew how many times the world had nearly ended.


	43. Chapter 42 - Repairman - Clint (Part 2)

When he arrived at the S.H.I.E.L.D. facility, he headed straight for Fury's office and handed him a flash drive containing all the intel he had gathered, along with a few envelopes and manila folders. After asking for details pertaining to the mission and a few follow-up questions, The Director nodded and dismissed him.

Clint went to the medical ward next, a heavy sigh leaving him. He was tired, from the mission and from barely getting enough sleep the previous night, but he supposed he could pop in with Lauren first.

But when he got to her room, he found her sound asleep, curled up under the blankets with her head resting slightly lower than where the pillow was. Standing by the side of her bed was Doctor Gilbert; he had a clipboard balancing on the crook of his arm and a pen in the other hand. He must have been doing his regular check-ups.

Quite suddenly, as if he had sensed eyes on him (which he probably had), Doctor Gilbert turned around. Clint waved at him in greeting. He was all for just walking away and leaving Lauren in peace, but the doctor made a vague gesture for him to stay put. With a sigh, Clint planted his feet and crossed his arms, hoping that whatever the doctor had to say would be over with quickly.

"Good morning, Agent Barton," Gilbert said as soon as he was out of Lauren's room, with the door closed behind him.

"Morning," Clint replied, before nodding to something behind the doctor. "How is she?"

"Just like she was when she first woke up. Physically, she's perfectly healthy." He sighed. "I can't be too sure about how she's doing mentally and emotionally, though. She barely talks to me. She doesn't trust me… but she trusts you."

Clint accepted the doctor's news with a small nod. "I'll talk with her when she wakes up."

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Agent Barton?"

"No, I'm good."

After giving one last nod of goodbye, the doctor turned away. Clint, once he had looked into the room once more to make sure that Lauren was indeed okay, started on his way to the elevator. It would take him to what Stark had dubbed the "Avengers" floor, because all of their rooms were found there, along with four or five guest rooms.

He closed his eyes as soon as his head hit the pillow, and fell asleep. In his dreams, he saw visions of a floating city, evil robots, glowing stones, a golden cape, and a woman clothed in scarlet.

He woke up to a firm grip on his shoulder, shaking him awake. For a moment, he thought that the person hovering above him was the person from his dream, but he soon regained his bearings and realized that it was Natasha.

"Tasha?" Clint grumbled, rubbing his eyes as he sat up. "What is it?"

"Lauren's holding a knife, and she's looking for you," she replied, the words tumbling out of her mouth quicker than Clint was used to. It took him a moment to fully comprehend what she had said.

Clint was out of bed in a flash. He threw on a clean shirt and quickly donned his shoes before bolting out of the room, Natasha trailing behind him. With his non-professional attire and bedraggled state, he got more than a few odd looks from the people passing by. He couldn't bring himself to care.

When they got to the medical ward, Doctor Gilbert was standing by the door, which was cracked open slightly; Agent Coulson stood beside him. Surprised, Clint stopped in his tracks. Coulson noticed him and turned to look at him with serious eyes. Before he could say anything, Clint stepped up and looked into the room.

Lauren was sitting on one side of the bed, her right leg resting on her left knee. She was playing with a thin knife in her fingers; it didn't look very sharp, but the tip was definitely pointed and sharp enough to cut through skin. Clint looked closer and realized that she was holding a steak knife. He realized, then, just what exactly the position implied, and he knew that the situation was far worse than what it looked like.

Lips pursed in anger, he looked to Gilbert and found a guilty expression on his face.

"N-No one had noticed that she'd taken it and I… I didn't know that—"

"That she'd consider killing herself?" Clint finished, widening his stance and staring the doctor down.

Coulson placed a hand on his shoulder and nodded at the door. "Barton." Clint whipped his head around and found that Lauren had stopped playing with the knife. She just stared at it, completely still. But he could tell that she was listening in. She had that look on her face.

"She called for _you_ , agent," Coulson continued, speaking in a lower voice. "And she waited—not without a reason, I'm sure."

He was using his calm voice, something he always used when he was trying to deflate a situation. It worked. Clint kept his eyes on Lauren and felt his anger at Gilbert slowly melt away, replaced by a sudden, gripping determination.

Wordlessly, he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, knowing that Lauren would appreciate the privacy.

She stayed as she was, completely still. Clint would have mistaken her for a statue if it weren't for the subtle movements of her shoulders, the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed—and the haunted glaze in her eyes. No sculptor could ever capture that.

"Lauren?" he murmured, deciding to stay by the doorway for the time being. In an effort to ease the tension, he forced a light chuckle and said, "Did they give you steak for breakfast?"

A slight crease appeared on her forehead. Her lips moved, and he had to concentrate to make out what she said: "Ribs."

Good. At least she could still hear him, could still think properly. "I guess Fury didn't teach them how to properly schedule their meals, huh?" He offered another laugh, but it got caught in his throat when she shifted, placing the knife even closer to her heel.

"Stop that," she said.

Clint frowned. "Stop what?"

"Stop pretending that everything is _okay_ … That _I'm_ okay."

Her voice broke, and she cleared her throat, shaking herself as if she was thinking, _Stop being so weak._ Clint was sure that she'd done it before. She didn't like to show weakness. He was lucky enough to have gotten several glimpses past the curtain, even in their very brief friendship.

Cautiously, he took a step towards her. When she didn't object, he kept walking until he was about two feet away, just close enough that if he stretched his arm out, he would be able to touch her. But he didn't do that. He just stood there; let her grow used to his presence.

"You _are_ going to be okay, Lauren," he said, "But you have to let go of the knife and tell me what happened."

His request was met with silence and, for what must have been a minute or two, there was nothing but that. He waited, doing his best to emit an aura of patience and understanding, hiding his anxiety. It didn't help that she could be so unpredictable at times.

Outside, he could vaguely make out the low conversation of Coulson and Natasha. He tilted his head in their direction to try and understand what they were saying, but then he heard Lauren take a shaky breath. When he turned, she was staring at him.

"Artemis declared that I can no longer participate in the Hunt," she said. "I can no longer speak with my sisters-in-arms… I didn't even get to say goodbye."

Clint approached her with cautious steps, like how one would approach a wounded animal. Ultimately, he came to crouch by her side, with his shoulder grazing the mattress. "It's not the end of the world," he spoke softly. "You still have something waiting for you. At Camp-Half Blood."

She shook her head. The knife trembled in her hand. "Zeus banished me from there as well."

And then Clint finally understood.

He understood that she had joined Orion's army because she'd thought it was the right thing to do, but he also knew that she'd strived to redeem herself afterwards. He understood that she wouldn't have reacted so badly to her punishment if she could still return to Camp—he knew that that place had been her back-up plan, but he also knew that the gods had taken it away as well. He understood that the world might as well have ended. _Her_ world, at least.

But he also knew that suicide wasn't the answer.

"You made a mistake—all of us have at some point—and the gods got petty," he reasoned. "You gotta prove them wrong, kid."

"They forbade me from killing myself as well." It was as if she hadn't heard him. "They said that if I did, I would spend 100 years in the Fields of Punishment, and then spend the rest of my afterlife in Asphodel. But the Fields of Punishment… that place is for criminals, _murderers_." She raised her eyes. "Isn't that what I am? Shouldn't I be there instead? I do not deserve to see you. I do not deserve to _be_ _here_ , to be fed and taken care of. I… I deserve to die."

"No, you _don't_." Without thinking, Clint scooted forward and placed his hand on her knee. The side of it grazed her bare foot and she visibly flinched. "Lauren, you can still make up for it—for _all_ of it. But you can't do this."

A single tear slipped down her cheek. "Did you know that I wanted to kill them?" she said, stunning Clint into silence. "While you were away, I got to thinking again, and at one point, I thought to myself: What if I would be the one to kill the gods? I'd come full circle, wouldn't I? First, killing the children, and then their parents. A murderer worth her label."

For a while, the both of them were quiet. She was undoubtedly waiting for him to start preaching again, but he didn't know what to say. None of his previous words had reached her, hadn't even seemed to scratch the surface. He had to speak to her with a deeper level of trust if he was going to convince her to stay alive.

"I wasn't always the best shot, you know," he found himself saying. "Before I was Hawkeye, I was just Clint Barton. I had a family to take care of, and we didn't exactly live near civilization. Winter came, one of the worst I'd ever seen, and we had to hunt for food because the roads were so dangerous to drive on. Dad took me to the forest and we caught scent of a deer. I thought dad was going to kill it, since it was the first sign of prey we'd had for about an hour. But then he tells me, 'You shoot it, Clint. You've got to learn to start shooting for yourself.'

"So I nocked an arrow, right? Took aim, tried to keep my hand from shaking while I tried to remember everything my old man taught me." He shrugged. "I missed. The deer ran away and we ended up in the woods for another two hours before managing to scrounge up enough grub for dinner."

The corner of Lauren's lip twitched upwards, and a soft sound of amusement started in her throat.

"I was hoping I'd get that reaction from you," said Clint, sighing in relief. "But it got me thinking, you know? What's the point of knowing how to shoot if I don't know what I'm shooting for? I took that bad shot from years ago and used it to get better. I became an Avenger. I helped people. But if I can't help people… then none of this is worth it—the training, the survival. None of this is worth it if I can't place a mark— _my_ mark—on the world."

Lauren was staring at him, now, with what seemed to be a hopeful gleam in her eyes.

"I know you didn't wait for me because you were thinking it through, Lauren," he continued. "You waited because you wanted someone to help you." He tightened his grip on her knee. "So let me help you."

He saw the fight raging in her eyes, watched one side of her gain the upper hand before being overpowered by the other. And it went on. Just as he thought that she was really going to do it, her hand, the one holding the knife, moved, until the blade was hovering near his face. He took it from her and promptly slid it across the room. She didn't seem to notice.

For a moment, he contemplated on hugging her without permission. In normal circumstances, he'd do it on impulse. But this was _Lauren_. So with an air of uncertainty, he asked, "Can I hug you?"

A sound that was half chuckle and half sob escaped her, and she nodded.

He got onto the bed and wrapped his arms around her. It was awkward at first; she was so tense. But eventually, he felt her muscles relax. She buried her face in his shoulder, and shook from the strength of her sobs.

He held her until the tremors stopped, but even then, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and kept her close, rubbing soothing circles on her arm. It took longer than he'd expected before she finally pulled away, and to his surprise, he found that he minded. He felt bound to her; he wanted to protect her, wanted her to be happy.

He trusted her with his life, and until then, it hadn't occurred to him that she might feel the same about him. How fragile her trust was—once it was broken, it could never be restored.

What was he going to do with her?

* * *

In the days that followed, Fury made sure that such an incident wouldn't happen again. A security camera was installed in Lauren's room, and the nurses made sure not to send any more knives with her meal tray.

Not that any of it would have mattered, because Clint barely left her alone at all. Not even during the nights. Eventually, the nurses had to adjust. They started bringing his food to him as well, and had even provided him with a blanket. But there was no space for a second mattress. Clint tried not to mind.

Despite his continued attentions, and no matter how hard he tried, things just wouldn't go back to how they used to be before the incident. Lauren didn't smile as much anymore, he was yet to get a laugh out of her, and she spoke barely more than ten sentences every day.

Fury wasn't happy with what was happening with her. "She's an asset, Barton," he'd said. "Someone who actually likes us enough to help us with all the shit that keeps happening. I can't have her become an illogical mess. I need her thinking."

Clint knew that things weren't going to improve, not while she was stuck in a room all day. She had to go out, reacquaint herself with the world. He thought of his home with Laura in the countryside—far from civilization. Things there were peaceful, quiet. Lauren would like it there. She was used to living in the wild.

Fury didn't like the idea. He said that it was risky to do without proper supervision. Clint promised to keep an eye on her.

After much more arguing and half-assed promises, The Director consented.

Clint explained the situation to Lauren. He labeled it as an early "vacation". She held that skeptic look on her face, but he was certain that he'd caught a glimmer in her eyes.

Lauren had nothing to pack. Aside from the Traust sword and the large pack that she'd brought back from Camp Half-Blood, she carried nothing else as she boarded the Stark jet. She settled down in her usual spot in front of the television, cross-legged with the sword on her lap. She was staring down at it. Clint sat beside her, as always, and stole a glance at the magical weapon.

He was drawn to it.

He'd felt just how powerful it really was when he first used it—back in Crete, to kill the giant scorpion. Then, he hadn't realized what a feat it had been; to wield the sword, much less _lift_ it. When he had explained their discovery of it to Chiron, the both of them had agreed that the sword answered to two people and only two people: Clint and Lauren.

Maybe it was because they'd worked together to find it, as well as to kill the scorpion, just like what the prophecy required them to do. Chiron had had a spark in his eye all throughout the conversation, but he refused to share any more ideas as to why the sword wouldn't yield to anyone else.

It certainly made things complicated, but it was the perfect fail-safe. Just like Thor's hammer, the sword had the potential to become a weapon of mass destruction, if used carelessly. But Clint knew for a fact that Lauren was anything but. If the sword ever got in the wrong hands, it couldn't be lifted, consequently making it easier to defuse such a situation.

Stark, rather noisily, boarded the jet—complete with his jeans, long-sleeved shirt, fancy shoes, sunglasses, and ego that could outweigh even The Hulk.

He slipped the sunglasses up and slid up the aisle, nonchalantly ruffling Lauren's hair and giving Clint a light slap on the cheek. Clint shoved his arm away and scanned Lauren's face, a bit panicked that she'd kill him out of annoyance.

She raised the sword, scabbard and all, and pointed the tip at Tony's arc reactor. "I don't think this sword holds any Celestial bronze in it," she remarked. "Do that again, and I _will_ kill you."

Tony started whistling as he continued up the aisle and into the cockpit. "Fury told me all about your little retreat," he said, ignoring her threat. "So, where are we going? I hear Prague is nice this time of year. Or, you know, we could always go to Norway. See the Northern Lights. Real romantic."

" _We_ aren't going anywhere," Clint retorted, a bit put off by the feigned look of hurt on Tony's face. " _You_ are going to drop _us_ off at Fire River, and head back to HQ."

"Fire River… in Ontario?"

"Yes, Tony."

"Ontario, _Canada_."

" _Yes,_ Tony."

"What the hell do you want to do in Canada?" The jet's engine whirred to life beneath their feet, and in a few seconds, they were off the ground. Tony looked over his shoulder. "You gonna kill Justin Bieber's parents or something?"

"Or something."

The two of them then shared a very long, very significant look. Tony scoffed and rolled his eyes, but otherwise shut up about it. Clint could feel Lauren's eyes on him. Leaning in, he murmured near hear her ear, "You'll see when we get there."

She just nodded.

Fire River was an uninhabited railway siding that was west of the Missinaibi River. People could only get there by train, as there weren't any roads leading to it, but Clint knew it like the back of his hand.

Tony dropped them off with short goodbyes and surprisingly little argument. He probably thought that Clint was going to explain everything to him sooner or later, and he wasn't wrong. But what he didn't know was that Clint was going to lie.

No one could know about what he and Fury had set up in the forests of Ontario. Lauren was going to be the only exception. Why that was, Clint wasn't sure either. All he knew was that she needed time, companionship, and someone to care for her. He was willing to give all these things, and he knew his wife would as well.

"Why are we here, Clint?" Lauren asked.

"You'll see." He began walking, knowing that she'd follow close behind. In her state, it didn't seem like she'd just run away without saying anything. Like they'd cleared up during the knife incident, she wanted someone to help.

Sunlight streamed through the branches of the bare trees, littering the ground with gold and illuminating the thin sheet of white on the ground. Lauren and Clint's boots crunched on the dead leaves and snow, alerting any animal in the immediate vicinity. There weren't any dangerous predators lurking about, though. Fury had made sure of that when he'd assigned the location to Clint's family.

After an hour or so, the trees thinned, revealing the Barton family home.

The sight of the handmade wooden fence and the cream-and-green house filled Clint with a familiar sense of warmth and safety. He had always been sheltered here. Secure. This was the only place where his job had never followed him, and he liked to keep it that way for as long as he could.

Again, Lauren was going to be the exception.

She took in the view of the fence, and the house, and the grass, and the pick-up truck with a surprisingly calm exterior. There was no astonishment written on her face, only a sprinkling of confusion, which Clint had expected. But she didn't say anything, and he didn't know what to make of that.

As they were climbing the steps onto the porch, the front door suddenly opened. There stood Cooper, in a simple shirt and shorts.

"Daddy!" he exclaimed. He came running out the door and into Clint's arms. His sister, Lila, wasn't too far behind, and soon Clint was completely immobilized, struggling under the weight of the two children.

"Hey, guys!" he said, grinning from ear to ear. "Did ya miss me?"

"Yeeees," the both of them answered in unison.

The whisper of a third pair of feet reached Clint's ears, and he raised his head to find his wife, Laura, leaning by the doorway, her arms crossed and a look of amusement on her face.

"Mind giving me some help here?" said Clint.

That smile that he'd come to adore, one that could light up an entire room, inched up her face. She strode forward, but instead of prying the children off of him, she wrapped her arms around Clint and pressed all three of them together in a group hug.

Cooper laughed, Lila squealed, Clint groaned, while Laura just released a sound of utter happiness. When she pulled away, though, she had a straight face again and was staring at something over his shoulder.

Quickly, Clint turned around. "Oh, right, um… Right."

Lauren had this odd look on her face. She had undoubtedly been watching everything that had gone down. But she looked cool with it. She shook her head with a small smile.

"It's quite all right," she said. "Family is family, after all."

"Here, let me introduce you. This is Laura, love of my life." He placed a chaste kiss on Laura's temple before ruffling Cooper's hair. "And this is Cooper," he squeezed Lila's shoulder, "And Lila, and last but not the least…" Putting a hand on the small bulge on Laura's stomach, he smiled proudly. "Little—"

"Natasha," Lauren interrupted. She took in the surprised looks of the parents rather well. "You are hoping for it to be a girl, right?"

"Yeah, we are… How did you know that?"

Clint frowned, and in return, she frowned as well. "You don't remember?"

Remember? What was he supposed to _remember_? He was fairly sure that if he had told her about his secret family—a family who _no one at all_ knew about (except for Fury and Natasha)—he'd remember it.

Sighing, she shook her head and stepped forward, holding an arm out towards Laura. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you and your family, Miss Barton," she said. "I'm Lauren Brooks."

" _The_ Lauren?" said Laura. Clint lowered his head sheepishly as Lauren threw him a questioning look. "Oh, Clint's told me all about his most recent mission. Said that you were his partner this time, instead of Natasha. But I can't help but to wonder why Fury would hire someone so young…"

Again, Lauren looked at Clint, but he met her gaze this time. An unspoken agreement passed between them, and she smiled pleasantly at Laura.

"Do you mind if we take this inside?" she said. "I'm afraid Clint has some explaining to do."

* * *

 _Next chapter will be the last chapter of this story... [cries]_

 _Buuuut what do y'all think about Lauren meeting the family? ;)_


	44. EPILOGUE - Clint

_Aaaaand here it is! The last chapter of Rage Against The Dying of The Light. I truly hope you enjoyed this story and the little liberties that I took with it. Huge HUGE shoutout to Anonymous reviewer - thank you for being so awesome. That goes for all you other readers as well. Stay cool!_

 _updated: 11/25/17. just fixed some minor errors._

* * *

The couple spoke on the porch, sitting on the bench, while Lauren waited inside the living room. It was obvious that she didn't want to listen as Clint retold the events of the past month; he let her be. He had other problems.

As much as he wanted to—and he wanted to _very badly_ —Clint knew that he couldn't tell Laura about demigods, or about anything that could be found behind the Mist. He could only imagine Lauren's unhappiness if he ever did so, but in the end, even she wasn't the one calling the shots.

There was Zeus; and if he had agreed to banish Lauren—his _granddaughter_ —for telling humans about their hidden civilization, what would he do to a human, someone he barely knew?

He wouldn't lie to Laura, though. After all they had been through, he couldn't just do that to her.

So he told her the general information regarding the mission, the need-to-knows only. He omitted the specifics that could have hinted at anything… _Greek_.

"Look, Lauren doesn't work at S.H.I.E.L.D., okay?" he said. "Fury recruited her from this group in Long Island, said that she was the only one capable enough to finish the mission."

Laura raised an eyebrow. "And was he right?"

"Oh, we finished the mission alright." Clint chuckled lightly. "World nearly ended _again_ , but we did it."

"Then why does she look so… sad?"

She'd always had a knack for reading people, just like him. It was one of the reasons why he married her in the first place. Most of the time, she'd understand if he was grateful, or angry, or lonely, without him ever needing to say a word. It was annoying at times—how she always seemed to know everything—but at the end of the day, who was sleeping in his bed? Who was caring for him?

"The mission was tough on both of us," Clint said with some hesitance. He was treading very dangerous waters, now. One slip of the tongue and she'd catch on; she was smart. "But she got most of the load. She had to make some tough choices, while we were out there… Had to kill people."

His wife, the saint that she was, took it all in stride. But even he could see the shock in her eyes. Lauren looked no older than 20 years old, and Clint had just dropped a bomb that she'd killed people. _People_. How all of it must have seemed to Laura was a mystery to him, but he deeply hoped that she wouldn't come to fear Lauren. Isolation was the last thing that girl needed.

"Her superiors weren't happy with what she did—the unnecessary casualties, I mean. They sort of… kicked her out."

"Kicked her out?" said Laura. "Of, what, the group?"

"Yeah, and from the camp." Upon seeing the slight confusion on her face, he added, "That's where they live."

"So she has nowhere to stay right now, no home whatsoever."

"Yeah."

"No family, extended family she can stay with?"

The corner of his lip twitched. "It's like you don't want her to stay."

"Of course I _want_ her to stay. I'm just making sure. I mean…" There was a crease on her forehead. "… Is she a minor?"

Of all the things she could have asked. "No, Laura, she's really 60 years old; she just hides it with skin care products and some really good make-up." She swatted his arm, and he laughed good-naturedly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "No, she's not a minor."

"That's good." She was quiet for a while, with her head resting on his shoulder. Then, in a quiet voice, she said, "You really care about her, don't you?"

"'Course I do. The kid's gone through a lot." He sighed. "She's never been the same since she got kicked out. I want to help her get past that."

Laura smiled, humming thoughtfully. "Like rehab for war vets."

It was scary how close she was to the truth. So, like any other husband, he dropped another bomb on her: "Sure, but more like for suicidal war vets."

She was slow to react, undoubtedly having a hard time grasping what he'd just said. She pulled away from him and looked at him with her serious face. Wide-eyed, she said, "Did she… I mean, has she…?"

Ruefully, Clint nodded. "When I came back from that mission in Monaco, she seemed fine, at first. I went to catch some sleep, then Tasha woke me up, said that Lauren had somehow gotten a knife." Laura drew a sharp breath, and he hurriedly answered her unspoken question. "She didn't cut herself or anything like that… She waited for me, Laura. She _wanted_ help, and I knew that she wouldn't get any proper closure at the facility."

"So you brought her here," Laura finished. "I don't mind, Clint. We'll help her together. Any friend of yours is a friend of mine."

He smiled widely and pulled her back into him, placing his lips firmly onto hers. He cupped her cheeks to keep her close, and he felt her hands travel up to his neck. He was vibrating with happiness.

But then, quite suddenly, she pulled away, and she had this frown on her face. "Do you think the kids will be a problem?" she whispered.

A low chortle escaped him, and he pecked her lips once more before tilting his head, so that he was facing the window that looked into the living room. "We'll see," he said.

Laura followed his gaze, and they watched as Cooper entered the living room, gripping Lila's hand as she trailed behind him. In her other hand, she held her small bag of dolls—courtesy of her Auntie Natasha. Lauren raised her head, and Clint couldn't help but to chuckle at the confusion on her face.

"I hope she likes dolls," said Laura. "… And toy cars."

She looped her fingers through Clint's, and he looked down at her and smiled. Hand in hand, they stood from the bench and entered the house. Laura immediately went for the kitchen, but Clint gently tugged her away from the stove.

"I'm cooking tonight," he said. "You get some rest."

"Burgers?" she asked.

"What else?"

With a smile, she placed a light peck on his cheek before turning around and trudging upstairs.

The sun was already on its way down, coloring the interior of the house a soft orange. Clint was about to go and set up the grill outside when he heard Lauren's voice coming from the living room, sounding considerably _friendly_ : "Where did you get them?" she was saying.

His curiosity got the best of him. He poked his head through the doorway, peeking into the room and taking in the scene with dim surprise.

Lauren sat in the middle of the couch, Lila sat beside her on one side and Cooper on the other; he was playing with his cars on the armrest, making faint sound effects with his mouth. Meanwhile, Lila was showing Lauren her doll collection.

The former Hunter had her fingers lightly wrapped around a doll with curly, dark blue hair—an odd creation, but Clint knew better than to reprimand Tasha for introducing his daughter to artificially colored hair.

"What do you call this one?" Lauren asked.

"That's Clementine," said Lila. "She's my favorite."

"I like her hair."

"Me too." Lauren stroked the doll's hair for a moment, a curious expression on her face, before giving it back to Lila, who then proceeded to hand her another doll. This one had straight black hair. "And this one?"

"Jill," Lila replied, and the change in Lauren was immediate.

The smile on her face slipped. The growing spark in her eyes died. She managed to plaster on another smile as she handed the doll back to Laura. "Like in the nursery rhyme?" she said.

Beaming, Lila nodded and started singing. "Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water. Jack fell down and broke his crown…"

"And Jill came tumbling after," Lauren finished, still smiling, but Clint had noticed the way her voice quivered.

He firmly knocked on the wood of the doorway, commanding the attention of the three people in the room. "Dinner update, guys," he said. "I'm cooking."

"Burger night!" Cooper exclaimed gleefully. "Finally! I miss your burgers, dad. Mom's recipe is too spicy."

"You wanna come out with me? Help me cook?"

"Okay!" Cooper slipped his toy cars into his pocket; stood up and bounded up to Clint, who put a hand on his head and led him away from the living room.

Before going out the front door, Clint glanced over his shoulder just in time to catch Lauren holding a doll by its feet. She made it walk, but the majority of the upper half of its body was slumped backwards and dragging across the cushion. Accompanied with a funny voice, and Lila was hooked.

Her peals of laughter followed Clint and Cooper out of the door.

* * *

Cooper didn't help much with the cooking, but Clint enjoyed his company, as a father was wont to do. He kept things from being too quiet, kept Clint from thinking too much. He made _vroom vroom_ noises with his lips and ran around with a toy car in his hand, as if it was zipping through the air.

 _Flying cars,_ Clint mused. The invention of one shouldn't be too far away, considering the level of technology in American soil alone.

Clint told Cooper to get the plates and the buns from the house. When the kid came back outside, Laura followed behind him, holding a bowl of sliced tomatoes in one hand, and a bowl of lettuce in the other. She placed the bowls on the small table beside Clint, came up to him and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll get the ketchup and mayo," she said before disappearing back into the house.

"Don't forget the cheese!" Clint called.

Cooper gave him a bun and Clint sliced it down the middle, placing them flat side down on the grill. When they seemed toast enough, he took a plate from Cooper and placed the bread there, along with the patty. The condiments and toppings would be personalized, as was the American burger tradition.

"Hey, buddy," Clint said to Cooper. "You mind calling Lauren and your sister? Tell 'em that dinner's ready."

"'Kay."

The sound of Cooper's footsteps grew fainter and fainter as Clint kept his eyes on the grill, focusing on finishing the rest of the patties. Laura came out and placed the bottle of ketchup, mayo, and packs of sliced cheese beside the tomatoes and lettuce, and helped Clint with the plates.

By the time Lauren and Lila came out of the house, only one more patty and pair of buns were left on the grill—obviously his, since Laura was already handing out the plates while he finished up.

The soft noise of glass and forks clinking together filled the clearing as Clint's family got to adding their preferred condiments. Clint plated his burger but left the coals burning, in case anyone wanted seconds. He turned towards the condiments table, and as he was deciding what add-ons he was in the mood for, he noticed Lila standing beside Lauren.

Lila, apparently, was in charge of Lauren's burger. She placed a slice of cheese, two slices of tomatoes, and a single leaf of lettuce on top of the patty. As she was about to pour the ketchup, Lauren stopped her.

A gasp escaped Lila. "But ketchup is the best part!"

"I have always been confused as to why people still put ketchup on their burgers when they've already put tomatoes on it." Lauren raised an eyebrow. "Ketchup is made from tomatoes, isn't it?"

Lila was frowning in concentration now, no doubt trying to think of a retort. But Lauren had a point, and in the end, Lila only added mayonnaise to her burger.

Clint threw Lauren a critical look. "Did you just teach my daughter to hate ketchup on burgers?"

"I told her my opinion, and she chose to follow my example," she replied, looking quite put out. Clint hurried to rectify the situation.

"You do pose an interesting statement though," he said. "Why add ketchup when you've already got tomatoes? We could make that viral; tell Fury to ask that to the President."

She smiled, but said nothing more. Laura and the kids made their way to the porch, where they sat down on the steps and began light conversation. Meanwhile, Lauren was staring down at her plate, lips pursed.

"What?" Clint said.

She looked up at him and sighed. "It has been a while since I've had a burger."

"But you do know how to eat one, right?"

"When I still lived with my mother, we always preferred it with salty fries and a milkshake."

"Sorry, we only drink sodas here." And then, leaning in, he whispered conspiringly into her ear. "We'd have beer, but the kids don't even know about that stuff yet." She wrinkled her nose, and Clint laughed. "Here, I'll go first."

He picked up his burger with one hand, pressed his thumb and forefinger down on the front, opened his mouth wide, and took a relatively large bite. Its juices sent his taste buds into a frenzy, and he groaned.

"Your turn," he said, mouth still full.

He caught the disparaging look that she threw him, but nevertheless, she picked up her burger and followed suit. Some grease dribbled down her chin, and she quickly wiped it off with the back of her hand. Clint beamed in approval, his cheeks filled with burger. Lauren shook her head. There was a smile on her face though, which suggested that she wasn't too disgusted with his etiquette.

"You make good burgers," she remarked.

He hummed but refused to say anything about it. She gestured to the porch. "Would you like to sit with them?" she asked.

"Sure, but you're coming with me." When she hesitated, Clint added, "You're coming. No objections."

Frowning, she followed him to the porch, where he sat in-between Laura and Cooper. They always sat like this during burger nights; the weather never mattered, unless it was raining, at which time, they ate inside.

He stared expectantly at Lauren, who, in turn, sighed in agitation. Ultimately, she settled herself at the edge of the steps, beside Lila. Clint watched as they simultaneously took bites out of their burgers, Lila staring up at the stars and Lauren staring down at the ground.

"Mommy, mommy," Lila said. "Can you show me the star-lines again?"

"They're called constellations, baby," Laura replied. "And I only know one." Smiling, she raised a delicate finger to the sky and traced a couple of lines into the air, as if she was touching the stars themselves and bringing them together. "That's Cetus, the whale. You see?" She traced the lines into the air again, and Lila nodded vigorously.

"It was not always called the whale, you know," Lauren spoke up. Clint raised his head and looked at her in wonder, as Laura's hand crept onto his arm and squeezed. "Most people associate it with a sea monster from Greek mythology, which was also called Cetus."

Beside Clint, Cooper perked up with interest. "A sea monster?" he said. "Did it eat people?"

"It is said in Greek mythology that it once terrorized the city of Aethiopia, because the queen said that her daughter was more beautiful even than the sea nymphs. This caused the god of the sea to become angry, so he sent the sea monster to attack the city."

"Did the people die?" Lila asked, so very innocently, that Clint couldn't help but to send Lauren a warning look.

She shook her head. "No one died," she lied. "But many buildings were destroyed. Eventually, a hero named Perseus came to save the day, and he turned the sea monster into stone using Medusa's head."

Lila had this open-mouthed, wide-eyed look of wonder, while Cooper grinned and exclaimed, "Cool!"

"Yes, very cool," Laura agreed. "How do you know all that?"

Without hesitation, Lauren said, "My father used to let me borrow all kinds of books, before he passed away. He sort of had an obsession with anything Greek, and I suppose he passed that down onto me."

Clint raised an eyebrow at the lie, but there was no sign of guilt on Lauren's face. Impressive.

"Can you tell any more stories?" Cooper asked, and it was followed by Lila's question, which was, "Do you know any more constellations?"

Knowing Lauren, she'd have denied such requests, if it were anyone else. But she seemed to have grown a soft spot for the children. She smiled at the both of them and said, "Many constellations are out tonight, and they each have their own stories. I'll try to recount as much as I remember."

Laura squeezed Clint's arm again, and he looked down to find a very happy smile on her face. A pleased smile. A contented smile. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and she leaned against him. The night went on; they ate their burgers in silence while Lauren's voice filled the clearing with tales of the stars.

She pointed at the sky and related the story of Perseus—how he had been cast into the sea while he was a babe, and how he defeated Medusa, along with his other plights. She told them about Castor and Pollux, the twins—one mortal and one immortal—and about how Zeus had given the both of them immortality in the heavens as the Gemini constellation. She described Eridanus, a winding constellation that was correlated as one of Hades' rivers. She related the story of Canis Major, a dog so famed for its speed that Zeus placed him in the sky.

And finally, she narrated the story of how Zeus had changed himself into a magnificent white bull just to "get the girl".

Clint knew that she was holding something back, and he could guess why. _Keeping it G,_ he mused.

"How about that one?" Lila suddenly said, pointing at the sky and tracing a curved line into the air with her small pointer finger.

Lauren glanced up for only a moment before quickly dropping her head again. She looked quite interested in her burger. "It could be nothing," she said.

"No, look! It looks just like one of daddy's toys."

Clint knew that by "toys", Lila had meant one of his bows. He still frowned at Lauren's sudden reluctance, though, and couldn't help but to look and see just what had caught Lila's attention.

Laura narrowed her eyes a bit. "Yeah, I think I see it too… A bow, and what looks like a skirt… It looks like an archer!" She turned her attention to Clint, curious and surprised. "Do you see?"

No, he didn't see. But he didn't need to see it in order to understand Lauren's aversion. There was only one Greek archer that he knew about, and he didn't particularly like him.

"Look, Lauren!" Lila shook Lauren's shoulder, forcing her to look up. Again, she pointed at the constellation. "See?"

Clint watched with sad eyes as Lauren raised her head and followed Lila's gaze. "I see now. Thank you for pointing it out for me, Lila."

"You're welcome!" Lila grinned, oblivious to the situation she had gotten Lauren into. "Do you know what it is?"

"That is Orion, the hunter," said Lauren.

"What kinds of things did he hunt?"

"All sorts of animals: bear, deer, perhaps even lions… Some say that the goddess Artemis admired his prowess so much that she took him into her group as the first male to ever join… But, eventually, he was lost to them."

"Did he die?" Cooper asked.

"Yes." Clint could see that the memories were coming back to her, along with the anger. "Apollo did not want them to fall in love, because it was forbidden, so he cursed Orion with the urge to hunt every beast on earth. Gaea, the earth mother, disapproved of this, so she sent a giant scorpion to kill him."

Lila gasped. "But that's not fair! Orion only wanted to be with Artemis!"

Clint caught the look Lauren threw to his daughter: _Many things in life aren't fair,_ it said. _But you shouldn't know that yet._ "Artemis found his body soon afterwards. To honor him, she made a constellation that resembled him, so that his memory would forever live on in the sky." A bitter smile. "The end."

For several pure, untainted seconds, all was quiet. Lila and Cooper were staring at Orion's constellation in childish curiosity, probably wondering whether he was happy where he was. Lauren's hands were curled into fists in front of her knees. Her burger was all but forgotten. And Clint… what was he? What was he doing?

Something squeezed around his forearm. He blinked, only then noticing that he'd been staring at Lauren. Lowering his head, he found Laura looking at him with concerned eyes. He returned her gaze, pursing his lips and tilting his head ever so slightly, and she understood.

She squeezed his arm again before turning to Lauren. "Thank you for sharing those stories, Lauren," she said. "It was a good way to wind things down, 'cause I think it's time for bed."

"But we haven't finished our burgers yet!" Cooper complained.

"Well then finish them, so we can go clean up."

"Would it be all right if I don't finish mine?" said Lauren. Clint looked over at her and saw that she'd only finished half of it, and it hadn't been a very large burger to begin with.

Laura took the plate from her. "You aren't hungry?"

"Not anymore. It was a very large burger." She stood up and yawned—obviously fake. Clint raised an eyebrow, and she gave him a very pointed look before smiling pleasantly at Laura. "I can start cleaning up, if you want."

"Oh no, that's fine. You can go on ahead." Laura was adamant even as Lauren vainly dismissed the idea; she stood up, went over to the demigod, took her arm, and began pulling her into the house. "I'll show you to your room."

Soon, they were up the stairs and gone from Clint's field of view. Hopelessly, he turned to his kids and said, "Who's gonna finish Lauren's burger?"

"Me!" the two of them said.

He raised an eyebrow. "We'll split it."

When they were all finished with dinner, Clint took the plates to the sink to be washed, while Cooper and Lila went to pack up the things outside.

A few minutes later, Cooper walked in. "Dad, we're done," he said.

"Alright. Go on ahead and get ready for bed. I'll be up in a while."

As the two children trudged up the stairs, Clint was able to discern a third pair of footsteps. He glanced up at the staircase and saw Laura walking down.

"You need any help?" she said.

He smiled. "Nah, I was just finishing up."

Humming, she came up from behind him and wrapped her arms around his midsection, placing her head on his back. "I gave Lauren the guest room," she said. "It's not big, but I hope she likes it."

"I'm sure she will."

Clint dried his hands, turned around, and gave Laura a quick peck on the corner of her mouth. "Let's tuck 'em in," he said. "I'm beat."

And so they went up to the children's rooms and said their goodnights, kissing each of them on the forehead before switching the lights off. Lila had these glow-in-the-dark star stickers that she'd stuck to the ceiling of her room; Clint took a moment to stare at them—to remind himself that it was all real, that none of it was a dream—before he followed Laura into their bedroom.

Laura showered, and then Clint showered, and then the both of them collapsed onto their pillows, tired but happy. Clint snuggled close to his wife, relishing in the scent of her shampoo, and he slept well knowing that she was safe—that Cooper, Lila, little Natasha, and Lauren were safe.

He was _home_.

* * *

When Clint woke up, the sun was only beginning to stream through the curtains, and Laura was still asleep. Any other day, such a fact wouldn't have bothered him. But as he stared at her, he felt a pit growing in his stomach, and he felt restless.

Carefully, so as to not rouse Laura, he got up from the bed and went into the bathroom, thinking that maybe a warm shower would help.

He was wrong. If anything, the shower made things worse. As he was pulling on a new pair of pants, he felt a sort of tugging in his stomach.

He exited the bedroom, and the tugging intensified. Ultimately, he found himself walking towards the guest bedroom, where Lauren slept. As he stood in front of the door, with his hand on the knob, he hesitated upon opening it. Lauren wouldn't like him barging into her room so early in the morning—she barely put up with it during their time in Greece.

… So why was the tugging as forceful as ever? As a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, he'd learned a long time ago to trust his gut, but this was entirely different.

With a great sigh, he turned the knob and pushed the door open. And he found the room indubitably, unquestionably, empty of any human presence.

The air was still, cool with the morning air seeping into the cracks of the house. The bed was made to perfection—even Laura couldn't have cleaned up so well—and the curtains were down.

Where the hell was Lauren?

It was as if no one had ever used the room before. Everything seemed unsullied and untouched, if it weren't for the folded piece of paper that was sitting on the pillows. That definitely hadn't been there before.

Clint rushed forward and picked it up, unfolding it immediately. Written across the whiteness, in neat, plain handwriting, was what seemed to be a note of farewell. Clint had never seen Lauren's penmanship before, but it was undoubtedly hers. Who else could have written it?

 _Dear Clint,_ it read.

 _I am terribly sorry for having to say goodbye this way. There are many things I wish I could tell you face to face, but I don't think I could handle leaving if I saw Lila's or Cooper's faces. They are good children, Clint, and you are a good father to them, as well as a good husband to Laura._

 _After everything you have done, you deserve to be with them, to be happy. Which is why I had to leave._

 _The past wars have broken me, Clint. I know that you know, and that you've told Laura, and that she agreed to let me stay. I appreciate your concern, but I don't think I could take it if you, or Laura, or Cooper, or Lila, or even little Natasha, got hurt because of me. Apollo said that the Traust sword could hide my scent, but it won't protect me forever._

 _I thank you for everything you've done for the Greeks, Clint Barton. I thank you for standing by me when no one else would. But even you had to know that I could not stay with you forever. I have to find my own way, and you should—_

It went on for another paragraph or two, but Clint didn't want to read any more. He refolded the letter and took it with him as he left the house, marching through the woods with only a pair of slippers protecting his feet from the snow and fallen branches.

It was cold out. He could see his breaths coming out of his mouth in short wisps of mist as he jogged farther away from the house. Lauren couldn't have gotten very far, unless she had left in the night, which he hoped she hadn't done.

He paused beside a particularly large tree, gathering his thoughts. Running around in the woods wasn't going to help him find her—and he _would_ find her. He would. So, he recalled his basic training in S.H.I.E.L.D. How was he going to find Lauren?

 _Tracking,_ he thought.

And he smiled, because there was a clear print not far off from where he was: a scattering of the snow, as well as some deep impressions that definitely were not his.

He rushed over to the track and looked down at it, making sure that it was, indeed, _not_ his. It wasn't any animal's either; the prints were too thin and large, which suggested that something light but wide had made it.

Then, he broke into a jog once more, trailing beside the footpath.

He must have been walking for nearly an hour when he finally decided that maybe it was time to give up. He'd lost the trail. Laura was sure to have woken up already, and he didn't want her to think that he'd gone back to S.H.I.E.L.D. just like that, without even saying goodbye. Cooper and Lila would be devastated.

Just as he was about to head back, a hawk flew into view and landed on the branch of a dead tree. It was looking right at him with its beady eyes, tilting its head almost _knowingly_.

"Hello, spirit animal," Clint muttered, chuckling slightly at the absurdity of it all. Placing his hand near his temple, he saluted to the bird before turning around.

There was the faint rustling of branches as the hawk left its perch, and then Clint heard it screech, right behind him. Instinctively, he ducked, a curse leaving his lips. The hawk flew over his head and screeched again.

"What the hell, man?" Clint followed it with disbelieving eyes as it circled over him, staring at him. "What do you want?"

It screeched twice in succession, and then went off to the east, where the sun was. Again, it screeched, and Clint stared on.

Never, in all his years, had he had an animal speak to him. He'd been named after the hawk, but talking animals was the stuff of children's stories. He knew that animals were smarter than they let on, but how could this hawk have known that he was looking for Lauren? That he needed a guide?

He raised his head towards the sky, and remembered that there could have been an entire room of gods just staring down at him, probably thinking that he'd lost his head.

"Follow the bird?" he muttered, and then miraculously, the hawk screeched again, as if in reply. "Yeah, fine, follow the bird."

Clint hurried off in the direction of the sun, keeping his eyes on the sky until he caught up with the hawk. Its shadow bathed his face, and he thought that he must have been going crazy, because he could have sworn that he'd seen a man running ahead of him, directly beneath the bird.

He shook his head and blinked a couple of times, to clear his mind, before focusing on the task at hand. The hawk got him back on the track, and Clint found that it definitely wanted him to follow it. From time to time, it would screech and make a few small circles over his head before continuing forward.

After a few minutes, he found her.

She was in the same clothes she'd worn the night before, with her bow, quiver, and backpack slung across her shoulders, and her sword tied to one of her belt loops.

The hawk screeched, and Clint saw Lauren startle a bit at the sound. She turned around, and he was disappointed to find that she wasn't even surprised upon seeing him. But he had seen a flicker of joy in her eyes, and he figured that it'd have to be enough.

"Found you," Clint said, a bit breathless from having to keep up with the hawk's pace.

"That you did," said Lauren. "And I see you've made a new friend as well." Her gaze switched to the hawk that was circling overhead, and she pursed her lips in what looked to be suspicion. Clint didn't know what to make of it.

"It led me to you," he said, gaining some satisfaction in the way her eyes widened a bit. "Thought I was going crazy for a second back there, too, but I found you. I followed your trail—honestly, I thought you'd know how to cover your tracks better."

She hummed quietly. "Well, seeing as you needed the help of a bird to find me, I would say that I did a decent job of throwing you off track."

Clint huffed, a bit amused at first, before the irritation settled in. "You wanna tell me what the hell this is?" He took out her goodbye letter from his pocket, waving it in front of him. "You thought you could leave, just like that, without even giving me a proper goodbye? Without even giving _Lila_ a proper goodbye?"

She sighed loudly. "She's a child, Barton. Give her a few months and she would forget I even existed."

"This note…" He shook the piece of paper again. "… This is _bullshit_."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "And what makes you say that?"

"I thought we'd agreed that you'd let me help you! How am I supposed to do that when you leave after just one night with us?"

"The whole point of me coming with you was so I could _forget_ —forget _everything_ that happened during my time with the demigods. And yet, in one night alone, you managed to make me remember about sea monsters, and Percy, and the Styx, and… _Orion_." She said the name through gritted teeth. "How can you help me forget when Laura and the children want to know more? Answer that, Clint, and I'll think about staying."

He opened his mouth to answer, but found that nothing of import could come to mind. How could he help her? "We'd keep you company," he answered, rather lamely. "You won't be alone."

"I'd actually rather be alone."

"You don't mean that."

"I do."

They got quiet, then. The both of them just looked at each other, analyzed each other. Clint was desperate to find at least a hint of reluctance in her eyes, but there was none. She'd made her decision, and she was going to stick to it, no matter what he said. She was a lot like Natasha, in that way.

"I'm leaving, Clint," she said.

Resigned, Clint nodded. "I know."

A sad smile, and then she stepped up to him, retrieving something from her pocket. She grabbed his hand, held it open, and placed a coin there. One of the coins she used to make an Iris message—a drachma.

"Whenever you need my help, hold this up to the light, toss it into a source of water water, and say, 'O Iris, goddess of the rainbow, please accept my offering," she said. "I'll come running."

He rolled the object around in his hand, nodding. "Alright."

"We will see each other again, Clint Barton. I can promise you that."

With another smile, she came forward with arms open. He stepped into her and accepted her hug. It wasn't everyday that she offered to show her affection. They held each other like that for a while, enjoying each other's presence, and then the moment was lost.

"Goodbye," she murmured into his shoulder.

"Stay safe, kid," he said in reply.

Lauren stepped back and, after looking at him one more time, turned around and continued on her way to find closure. Unfortunately, that journey was one she needed to make alone.

Pursing his lips, Clint looked down at the drachma in his palm, and then at the letter in his other hand. _Might as well,_ he thought.

He finished reading it, and a rueful smile inched up his face as he sighed.

Fury was going to be so pissed.

* * *

 _And that about wraps it up. Thanks for staying with me in this magic carpet ride HAHAHAHA!_

 _If you liked this story, do me a favor and write a review! Maybe even share it with your Marvel friends._

 _P.S. Who do you think that mysterious, knowing hawk was? Huehuehue..._

 _updated: 11/25/17. The "Avenged" series has been discontinued. This will in fact be the last you'll see of Lauren._


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